


Number Eight

by katdoeswriting



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Daddy Issues, Eventual Romance, F/M, Family Drama, Fluff, Original Character(s), Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:01:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25733983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katdoeswriting/pseuds/katdoeswriting
Summary: A story detailing the life of Sybil Hargreeves - Number Eight - and her trainwreck of a family as they attempt to stop the apocalypse.
Relationships: Diego Hargreeves/OC
Comments: 9
Kudos: 41





	1. Episode One

Sybil poked at her now-cold Chinese take out box with her chopsticks, an unsettling feeling squashing her earlier ravenous appetite. Her damp, crumby apartment had no light spare for the small, white candle on her dining table and the soft flashing of the box television in the corner of the room. On nights like this, it was a daunting reminder to be known as _number eight_ , and despite years of therapy and confidence building, the trauma of her childhood years was still very sore on the mind. However, that wasn’t what was upsetting her stomach this evening — and that gave her even more dread.

In her earlier years, she was known as one of the few housing the Umbrella Academy. Each of the children there were assigned numbers at birth — well, sort of. They were each born on the twelfth hour of October first nineteen eighty-nine, to women who were not pregnant in the earlier hours of the day. It was a phenomenon never once understood by science, but accepted later on as the eight children sought out by Reginald Hargreeves began exhibiting powers. 

Number one, Luther, had the strength of ten oxes combined and could bench-press an elephant. Uncharacteristically, he was the most emotionally sensitive of the bunch. Number two, Diego, was able to control things that were in flight, and he was more often than not using this to his advantage with his favoured throwing knives and was known for his hot-headed behaviour. Number three, Allison, had the ability to rumour anything she wanted through mind control and had advantageously made her way into stardom, and was known for her sisterly arrogance. Number four, Klaus, was able to conjure the dead in visions and was a little more on the eccentric side. Number five had been missing for over a decade, and six had passed away in an accident. Number seven… Well, there wasn’t anything particularly special about Vanya.

Sybil was the last of the siblings, known as number eight, and her abilities were simplified to “witchcraft”, and she was the most compassionate of the group. Some of her abilities allowed her to harness the natural powers of the Earth's ingredients, including healing with herbs and remedies, potions, crystals… as well as some minor telekinesis and pyrokinesis, anything you would’ve been burned at the stake for in the sixteen-hundreds. 

Her trail of thought was caught off guard upon recognising a name come through from the static connection of the television. Turning her neck, her heart icily dropped to her stomach upon hearing the news of Reginald Hargreeve’s death. 

“Dad,” she murmured, her brows furrowing. She suddenly felt that what little she ate was going to make a reappearance, so she grabbed the leftovers and tossed them into the trash can.

Her phone began buzzing moments later, and she hesitated almost a second too long before she answered the call.

“Hello?” 

“It’s me,” Diego spoke out, his voice muffled by the bad weather outside. “You heard the news?”

She sighed. “Yeah. Old mans kicked the bucket,”

There was a small pause before he spoke again. “How do you feel?”

Sibyl shrugged to herself, not sure how to answer the question. “Ah — I’m not sure.”

“You wanna talk about it?” He offered. “I can come over.”

“Um, yeah — my doors unlocked,” she informed him, to which he promptly ended the call after a quick goodbye in promises that he’d be over in five. She swallowed back her anxiety, reaching for calming herbal tea sachets that she’d crafted herself and pouring two mugs. It wasn’t too long until her door swung open, and a visibly frazzled Diego stepped inside. 

She held her hands out with the mug, which he gratefully wrapped his chilled fingers around before taking a seat on her previously occupied dining chair with a wooden creak, staring off into nothingness. 

“So…” Sybil began, resting her hands against the kitchen counter behind her. “Been busy tonight?” She questioned. Diego had taken up the vigilante lifestyle and often visited her to take advantage of her healing abilities when he’d gotten into too much trouble. He refused to go to the hospital, knowing there could be unwanted entanglements with the law. 

“Hostage situation,” he spoke. “You know — the usual.”

Sybil scoffed, reaching for her mug and taking a sip, taking a deep breath after swallowing a mouthful. “ _The usual_ ,” she mocked, a small smile creeping on her lips before her eyes wandered to the television screen again. “Are you hungry?”

He shook his head, lifting his cup to take his first drink, wincing afterwards and gasping for breath. “Ugh, I don’t know how you can drink this crap.”

Perking a groomed brow, she had to resist the urge to snatch it from his hand. “Yet you know it works,” she commented, noticing that even after only one sip she was considerably calmer. She drank it most nights as it helped her sleep, and whenever Diego stayed the night he’d have one, too. Maybe he was just feeling particularly _complaining_ tonight. “You staying tonight?”

“If that’s alright with you,” he murmured, his eyes sweeping across the floor before making eye contact with her for a brief moment. “No Blair?”

Sybil hitched a breath before shaking her head stiffly. “No Blair.”

“For good, this time?” Diego pressed, his tone teasing although serious as he stared at her from over the top of his mug as he finished the tea. Blair had been Sybils' on and off partner for the past two years, and the siblings that she had remained in contact with were never impressed by them. 

“Yeah, well, I know how much you hated them,” she said, disposing of their mugs in the sink and turning away for a moment. As much as Blair wasn’t the most supportive of partners, it still hurt her heart to think about them. “What about you and Eudora?”

Diego half laughed, shaking his head. “Alright, you got me.”

Sybil sighed softly, turning back to the television as they covered the details of their father's passing, claiming it to be heart failure. Common in old age, but unexpected out of their father. He almost seemed untouchable to them, which would explain why they all felt so shaken as Sybil's phone was blowing up with texts of panic from both Klaus and Allison. 

“Something doesn’t feel right,” Diego concluded, voicing the thoughts that Sybil had been having.

“Tell me about it,” she murmured, chewing on her thumb before she turned away to grab a pillow and blanket out of the airing cupboard. It was used so much she questioned why she even put it away anymore, before remembering she would stuff them in there so Blair wouldn’t know when Diego had been staying the night. Blair hated guests — particularly ones from her family, too. 

“I gotta go check it out,” he announced, his eyes hardened. “I’m not buyin’ it. There’s something else to it, I _know_ it.” He explained, almost desperately. Sybil wanted to counter him and tell him to stay here, to sleep the shock off, but she knew him enough to not bother trying to steer him away. Once he was hyper fixated, there was no changing his mind. 

“Don’t stay for too long,” she asked, reaching into a cupboard and grabbing a small potion bottle of protection she’d brewed the night before, pressing it into his palm. “I’ll set up the couch for you to sleep on. Please don’t wake me up when you come back.”

“Sure,” Diego agreed, stuffing the small bottle into his pocket. She knew how doubtful he and the rest of her siblings were of her powers, but he still took anything she gave him appreciatively, and that’s all that mattered. 

It was a few hours later before he returned, and in his hands, he held a crumpled letter. Sybil hadn’t bothered trying to sleep, considering the stress of the day was bound to keep her up. Sadly, potions and herbal remedies couldn’t heal every wound.

“Hey,” she greeted, to which he nodded at her in acknowledgement. “What you got there?”

He passed her the letter, which she took tentatively with nervous fingers. “It’s the note from the coroner's office,” he explained, watching as she read the notes. “Heart failure. Figures, right?”

Sybil stared at the pictures of his corpse and swallowed hard before handing it back to him. “It’s almost hard to believe that he’s just gone,”

“Yeah,” he agreed almost nonchalantly, digging through her cupboards and pulling out jars filled with random “witch stuff”, as he put it, before retrieving a chicken cup noodle. “For a second I thought you were eatin’ jars of sage for meals.”

“Don’t tempt me,” she laughed, watching as he filled the plastic pot with hot water from the kettle, “money's tight these days. It’s been difficult — you know, since all the legal trouble.”

He stuck a fork into the noodles. “Another reason to never get involved with Blair again. That girl ruined your life.”

“Don’t give her that much credit,” Sybil laughed, “I ruined it myself, too.”

“I guess Dad didn’t exactly deal us the best cards, huh?” Diego joked, shaking his head as he sunk down onto the worn-down grey sofa next to her, staring at the steam rising from his food. “I just feel sorry for mom. All alone in that big house.”

Sybil nodded. “Well, she’s got Pogo.”

“I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t want a monkey for a roommate,” he said, taking a forkful of chicken-broth pasta into his mouth. The girl beside him shook her head before patting him on the shoulder.

“Well — enjoy your meal. I’ll be seeing you in the morning?” Sybil questioned, knowing that it wasn’t uncommon for him to take off before she’d woken up. He nodded his head, still devouring the food. “Alright, well. Goodnight, Diego.”

“Goodnight.”

  
  
  
  
  


A few days later, Pogo sent a transmission out encouraging the family to attend the funeral. Diego had been crashing at Sybil's house the last couple of nights, probably in his silent way of making sure she was okay. Just like all the others, her mental health was rocky — but he stuck to her like glue ever since her suicide attempt a couple of years prior. 

Sybil was dressed for the occasion in a flowy, black frock and lace boots. Diego, on the other hand, sported his regular vigilante attire, though the collar of his worn jumper seemed to bother him today as he adjusted it regularly throughout the car drive. She could sense his dread but sat in silence until they arrived outside of the large complex. 

“It is not good to be back,” Sybil said jokingly, to which Diego agreed with a tsk. He turned the engine off and they exited the vehicle, making their way towards the grand entrance. Sybil paused for a moment before they stepped inside. By the looseness of the heavy oak wood doors, they could already tell that they weren’t the first ones here.

Pogo greeted them solemnly, but Diego walked past without a second thought in pursuit of their mother, who he found sat by the fireplace blankly staring ahead. No words from either of them could get through to her, and realising she was probably saving her battery charge they eventually let her be. Sybil stepped further through the living area towards the bar, her fingers stroking over the sheen of dust on the expensive countertop and staring at a half-drank glass of bourbon on the side, probably left abandoned by their father. 

“Mom?”

Both Diego and Sybil exchanged a look, immediately recognising the voice as Vanya’s. None of them had really been particularly close with the girl, but the release of her book had torn a violent rift between them, especially considering she revealed secrets nobody _wanted_ to be revealed — all without permission. Part of Sybil sympathised with her sister, knowing she simply wanted a moment of power over the lack of control she had throughout her childhood, being known as the talentless sibling. The other half of her would never find it in her to forgive her for what she revealed, and for how hard her life had become since the day the book was stocked on shelves. It was one of the reasons she tried poisoning herself. 

“Vanya? You’re actually here,” Allison sounded, her voice further away than Vanya’s as her heeled footsteps cracked pleasingly across the marble flooring. 

“You OK?” Diego questioned Sybil, to which she nodded her head tightly. He seemed clearly annoyed and stormed towards the entrance hall with her hot on his heel. He walked past Vanya and Allison without sparing them a look. “What is she doing here? You don’t belong here — not after what you did.”

Sybil froze in her tracks upon seeing her sisters. Allison, she kept in contact with frequently and had even been the maid of honour at her wedding to Patrick. Sadly, that marriage didn’t end well but at least it had been a nice day to experience with her family. Vanya and Sybil stared at each other for a painful moment as Allison and Diego clashed like they always did, but the girl couldn’t bear to look at what felt like a traitor and she quickly turned to scurry out of the room. 

She wandered around the building before she found herself outside of her bedroom, noticing that the door was slightly open. Pressing her way inside, she felt an overwhelming sense of nostalgia at the sight of her astrology bed sheets, and a tug of guilt at the abundance of wilted plants and herbs scattered around the room. It felt like a betrayal to nature, but she was still happier when she up and left. 

“Hey,” Diego sounded from behind her, grabbing her attention as he leaned against the doorframe. “How are you holding up?”

“Oh, you know, peachy,” Sybil shot back teasingly, referencing the fact that seeing Vanya here had made her a little on edge. “No, seriously, I’m fine,” she answered, crouching down and opening a chest to find a goldmine of crystals, candles and a thick, leather-bound journal in the centre. “Hey — my journal.”

“Just talked to Luther,” he filled her in, rubbing his nose. “He’s still just as obsessed with our father since I last saw him. I don’t know why he’s still so _loyal_ to the guy — he sent him to the moon, for Christ's sake.”

“He was always the favourite.” She commented absentmindedly with a shrug, reaching in to find a jar filled with untouched weed. It must’ve been crammed in there for _years_. “Woah — wanna have some fun later?"

He smirked, though rolled his eyes. “Another time.”

Not long after, Luther called everybody down for a family discussion in the living room. It took Sybil a moment to pull herself together upon seeing Luther again for the first time, who was significantly larger in size. Stepping aside, she noticed Pogo had lit the fireplace and Allison and Vanya sat tensely on the chairs. Diego pulled a wooden chair out to sit further from the group, and Klaus excitedly pulled Sybil into a hug upon noticing her, the smell of weed lingering in his hair and from the joint sticking out between his teeth.

“Oh, I haven’t seen you in so _long_!” He exclaimed, squeezing her tight.

Sybil retracted from the hug and raised her brows. “We saw each other last week.”

He looked at her incredulously. “Uh, yeah, _so long_! I can’t help but miss my favourite sister.”

“Say hi to Ben for me,” she whispered, tapping his shoulder as they both took a seat on the couch, Klaus squashed between her and Vanya. For a while, Sybil couldn’t help but zone out of the conversation as Luther ran over some theories regarding their fathers missing monocle which was generally met with discredit from the group who were happily accepting of the report Diego sourced from the coroner's office claiming Reginald passed from heart failure. 

“Who gives a shit about a stupid monocle?” Diego complained.

Luther turned toward him almost accusingly. “ _Exactly_. It's worthless — so whoever took it, I think it was personal. Someone close to him. Someone with a grudge.” 

“Where are you going with this?” Klaus exclaimed. Sybil and Vanya shuffled uncomfortably in their seats as the tension in the room started to rise. 

“Oh, isn’t it obvious, Klaus?” Diego muttered bitterly. “He thinks one of us killed dad.”

The silence that followed confirmed his statement and the group stared at Luther with shocked eyes, astounded that he would even suggest the thought that one of them had murdered their father, regardless of how much he might’ve deserved it. Especially on the day of the funeral, Sybil thought there were more appropriate things to talk about than accusing your siblings of a crime. 

“You _do_!” Klaus gasped exasperatedly. 

“How could you think that?” Vanya whispered, visibly offended. 

“Luther — that's too far,” Sybil added. 

“Great job, Luther. Way to lead,” Diego scoffed, brushing past the big man with a cold shoulder. 

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Luther attempted to retract, but the damage had already been done as the group shook their heads disappointedly. 

Everyone muttered their indifferences about his statement before following in pursuit of Diego, who had the right idea of leaving the room. However, it wasn’t long until they were interrupted by a shockwave of lightning, and a pulsing blue light that led them towards the garden square. After a momentary panic, number Five fell from the blue portal and collapsed on the ground in a heap, clad in a suit ten sizes too big. Greetings and excited welcomes were barely executed before he barged past into the kitchen to make himself a peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich, chattering on about how he’d been stuck in the future for more than forty years, and how he’d transported his fifty-eight-year-old conscience into his thirteen-year-old body. None of it made much sense to them, but nothing ever did when it came to Five. 

By the time they were called by Pogo for the funeral, it had started raining. Luther held the urn in his hands, glancing at everybody gathered under their dark umbrellas — bar for Klaus with his barbie one — as he tipped out the ashes. Pogo gave a touching speech as everybody else denied the opportunity to talk — Sybil wasn’t surprised by the fact, what did they have to say for the poor excuse of a man they called father? He did more harm than good.

“He leaves behind a complicated legacy—” Pogo continued.

“He was a _monster_ ,” Diego corrected him, his hair dripping from the rain as he refused to bring an umbrella with him, even when Sybil tried to encourage him under her large black one. Klaus laughed at Diego’s words. “He was a bad person and worse father.”

That, they could all agree with. He continued his rant until Luther squared up to him, defending his father's legacy. They were at each other until they began tussling, to which the group yelled out for them to stop, or sat in silence allowing the fight to happen. Sybil was indifferent — this was frustration both of them needed to get out, and all things considered, Luther had no footing to tell the group how they should feel about their father as he was the favourite growing up, and didn’t suffer nearly as much as the others. 

It was only when Diego retracted his knife after Luther smashed Ben’s statue that Sybil attempted to step in, only to be pulled backwards by Vanya as the weapon flew towards and slashed Number One on the arm. It broke up the fight fairly quickly, and Vanya muttered her disappointment to Diego.

“You never know when to stop, do you?” She ushered.

Diego frowned. “You got enough material for your sequel, yet?”

“He was my father too,” Vanya concluded, walking back towards the complex and leaving the others outside in the rain.

Sybil tip-toed toward Diego, squeezing his bicep in comfort. She knew that he knew he took it too far — he didn’t need to be told twice, so instead, she offered her support by smiling at him encouragingly. He didn’t seem to be in the mood, as he instead took his mother by the arm and brought her inside. 

“Well — that was a shit show,” Sybil said to Klaus, who laughed to himself before walking over the pile of ashes on the ground, surrounded by clumps of wet, orange leaves. 

“I bet you’re loving this,” Klaus muttered to the pile of burnt remains. “The team at its best,” he sighed, “just like old times.” He then smiled to himself, taking a final drag of smoke before butting it in the ashes.

Silently, as Klaus turned away, Sybil grabbed a pinch of his ashes and stored them in a small, glass bottle similar to the one she gave Diego the previous night. Before she stepped inside, she couldn’t help but stare at the disembodied statue collapsed on the floor in a heap, swearing to herself when she had the time she’d repair it. 

When Sybil returned indoors, she found Diego packing up what little belongings he had on him in almost a hurry.

“Leaving so soon?” She questioned, pulling a small, rose quartz crystal from her pocket to play within her hand. She let it hover above her palm, feeling the energy of the long-forgotten gem.

“I can’t stand to stay another minute in this shit hole,” he explained, shaking his head as he zipped his duffel up and threw it over his shoulder. Sybil clenched her fingers around the crystal, stopping it from hovering. “I’ll take you home.”

“Okay,” she agreed, “let's say goodbye, first.”

They walked through the kitchen to see a small gathering of Allison and Klaus, with opened pots strewn around the kitchen. 

“Alright — I guess I’ll see you guys in, what, ten years? When Pogo dies?” He said sarcastically, grabbing a handful of peanuts from a dish on the table. 

Allison scoffed. “Not if you die first,” she countered. 

“Yeah, love you too, sis,” he rolled his eyes, “good luck on your next film. Hope it turns out better than your marriage, huh?”

He stormed out of the room after having made his point. Sybil stayed behind for a moment, sighing at his incapability to bite his tongue. If there’s anything he got from their father, it was certainly his anger issues.

“Don’t listen to him,” Sybil urged, rubbing Allison's shoulder.

“Don’t worry — I never do,” she said, smiling. “I have no idea how you put up with him. We’ve seen each other for a couple of hours today and he's already driven me nuts."

Number Eight considered her words for a moment before shrugging. “As much of an asshole he is, he’s also just a little misunderstood.”

“Misunderstood,” Allison repeated with a laugh, pulling her into a tight hug. “Safe travels. Stay in touch.”

Sybil nodded her head before making her way outside, noticing that Klaus was tagging along for the drive as an unamused Diego sat in the front seat, urging her to get in quickly. She sat in the front seat and was the first stop on the way home, and she hung half inside half outside the car before she officially left.

“Stay safe tonight,” she urged Diego, being unable to shake the sense of doom she’d had lingering over her the last couple of days. “I have a feeling something bad is going to happen.”

“Sure — whatever you say,” he brushed off, starting the engine up again. She was undisturbed by his coldness, simply shaking her head and shutting the car door behind her before making her way into her apartment.

Lying in her bed, she couldn’t shake the thought of something happening to the people close to her. Her heart ached mostly for Diego, knowing that he was too stubborn for his own good and likely to get himself hurt in a situation where it isn’t necessary. She only wished she knew just how much he mattered to his family — maybe then he wouldn't be so reckless. 


	2. Episode Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you guys like this one! i'd appreciate if you took the time to leave me a kudos and a comment to let me know what you think of the fic, or just general feelings over the umbrella academy!!

The first time that Sybil read her exclusive copy of Vanya’s tell-all autobiography, she’d discovered that her girlfriend at the time, Blair, had been cheating on her. Already in a sensitive frame of mind, she was absolutely not prepared for what she was about to read. She’d put off reading it — it took her about three years to come around to it. Regardless, she was grasping onto anything as a way to distract herself from the vulgar image of the woman she loved in bed with another — and it was enough to get her to finish the book within a few hours. 

It was hard enough dealing with trauma privately — but when that trauma was revealed to the world? It was a horrendously vulnerable feeling; like someone had robbed you of your right to privacy and confidentiality. As much as it was Vanya’s story, she seemed to forget, or perhaps she just didn’t _care_ , that it was also every other numbers story, too. And she had no right in sharing that. 

At this point, Diego and herself never saw much of each other unless he needed her help. She’d tagged along on a couple of his vigilante missions until he decided he was better off doing it alone — or maybe he’d just gotten too distracted with his new love interest, Detective Patch. Sybil had never been a fan of Eudora, nor had Eudora been a fan of Sybil. Sometimes Number Eight would silently indulge herself in admitting her jealousy of the Detective, but she’d never say that out loud. 

Throughout their childhood, Sybil and Diego were the closest. Much like Luther and Allison, their relationship was… frowned upon, in a sense, and they grew apart as soon as they left the academy. This all changed when Sybil called him that one night when the book and her crumbling relationship and the childhood baggage she held just became _too_ much. She was desperate and didn’t know who else to call. 

“ _Diego?_ ” Her voice had broken when she called him, tears streaming down her face as she held a fistful of herbs against her chest. She’d brewed them so that they’d essentially be a potion of death — poison, if you will. She never thought she’d get to the point where she considered using them on herself.

“What’s wrong?” He’d asked.

“I just — I don’t know what to do anymore,” she cried, holding the back of her hand against her mouth to muffle her cries. “I didn’t know who to call and I was afraid I might do something stupid and I wanted to say goodbye— God, sorry, I’m such a mess, I—”

“I’m on my way,” he informed her abruptly, “stay on the call, okay?”

As much as she wanted to listen to him, she was afraid of the pain that would follow if she didn’t just go through with it. And by the time Diego arrived, she was already half-dead on the kitchen floor, Vanya’s autobiography in a heap beside her. Thankfully, he’d arrived in time, and forcing her to vomit was the trick in ensuring her survival — though neither of them would have known the damage she caused to herself. 

He stayed with her throughout that night, helping somewhat to nurse her back to health. It had also been that night that they’d kissed, something they’d still not yet discussed. Besides, other relationships got in the way — it wasn’t appropriate. Regardless, she still noticed herself dreaming about it… 

Sybil woke up in the early hours of the morning with a pounding headache, her phone ringing loudly on her nightstand. Begrudgingly, she reached out to answer the call, frowning upon noticing that it was a private number.

“Hello?” She spoke, her voice cracking with sleep as she propped herself up on her elbow, her eyes squinting against the stream of morning light pouring through the industrial windows.

“Uh, hey, Sybil,” Diego said on the other end of the line, “so I need you to bail me out.”

The girl collapsed onto her pillow with a groan, holding one hand to her head. “Again? What’d you do this time?”

“Same as usual,” he said, and she could almost hear the smile in his tone. “Safe to say Eudora's _not_ happy with me.”

“Ugh, when is she ever?” Sybil teased, running her fingers through her hair and helplessly looking at the mess of clothes in her room. “Alright — I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Please try your hardest to refrain from annoying the Detective. I do not want to have to deal with her attitude today.”

“No promises.”

The call ended with a solid click, and Sybil groaned in her tired haze before forcing the duvet covers off herself. She ran her fingers through the mess of dark curls on her head, considering if she had to be presentable or not to bail someone out of jail. With a sigh, she threw on a simple summer dress and white sneakers before grabbing her keys and leaving her apartment. 

When she arrived, Detective Patch was there and she wasn't all too impressed with Diego who was uncuffed the moment Sybil stepped through the doors. He shot Sybil a shit-eating grin, almost as if he was _proud_ of himself for ending up in this situation again. Sybil rolled her eyes. 

“What’d he do now?” She asked, grabbing the bottle of water she’d stored in her bag and handing it over to Number Two, who gratefully accepted the offering. Upon glancing at his hands gripping the bottle, she noticed his knuckles were reddened, presumably from his tussle with Luther the previous day. 

Detective Patch barely looked up from her desk as she began sifting through and organising papers. “Meddling with the law, as usual. You need to get him under control.”

“I thought that was your job,” Sybil teased, knowing she was pushing the officers' buttons. 

“Now I need you two to listen carefully,” Eudora said, turning to the two of them and promptly ignoring the girl's comment. Sybil seemed taken aback, almost as if she was being scolded by a teacher and she didn’t know what for. Her gaze was hard upon Diego. “The next time one of you interfere in my investigations, you so much as _breathe_ on one of my witnesses, or touch a piece of evidence, I’ll charge you both with obstruction of justice. You will do jail time.”

“With all due respect, this has nothing to do with me,” Sybil clarified. Eudora pulled an unimpressed face, pulling out the protection bottle from her desk drawer and slamming it down as if she had a point to prove. Sybil tried to contain her laughter. “I still have no idea what you’re trying to say.”

“This is yours, correct?” She questioned.

“I made it for Diego—”

“So you had some involvement,” she pressed, “as far as I’m concerned, this is a weapon, and we’ll be running tests on it later today.”

“Damn,” Diego said. “You need to relax, Eudora. All this bureaucracy is getting—” 

“Don’t call me that,” she interrupted icily. “You’re both just trying to prove that, when you were kids, running around in those stupid uniforms, that it wasn’t for nothing. Now leave before I arrest you both.”

Snatching the bottle off her desk, Sybil turned on her heel and encouraged Diego to follow with a quick nod of her head. It was an understatement to say that her feathers were ruffled. Sybil _hated_ being made to be small — especially under the words of a woman she was slowly but surely losing her respect for. 

“Hey, hey, hey— cool it,” Diego commented, observing Sybil's heated attitude. “What’s the problem?”

She took a breath to control her anger, but didn’t bother to look at him as she unlocked her car. “I just don’t appreciate being pulled into your drama like that. Who does she think she is, talking to me like that?”

“She means well,” he explained with a shrug. “Sometimes it just gets to her head.”

“Yeah, well,” Sybil dismissed, adjusting the rearview mirror and gripping the steering wheel with stiff knuckles. “She doesn’t know who she’s talking to. She has no right.”

“Easy,” Diego muttered.

“Sorry — I just really don’t like authority,” Sybil explained apologetically, knowing she was probably getting ahead of herself with her annoyance. Suddenly, a thought came into her head as she pulled up outside of the boxing ring. “But on that note… this is you,” she nodded with a gesture towards the building.

“Hang on—” Diego hesitated, noticing a familiar car out front. He was used to the regulars and their crappy cars, but this one was different and he usually had the right idea about things. “Someones here.” 

“Who?” She asked, staring at the car as if it were obvious. “A new member, or something?” She questioned, feeling as if the situation were bizarre as she pulled her key out of the ignition. 

“I don’t know,” he murmured, unbuckling his seat belt and stepping out of the car. Sensing he felt there was a negative presence, Sybil opted to follow him inside in case things hit the fan — you know, as they usually did these days. 

Diego led her inside the building, shouting greetings at the regulars in the building. The smell of sweat and must clung to the air, and for a moment Sybil wondered how people could manage in such a poorly ventilated building. They wandered past the gym area into a small corridor before he stopped outside the boiler room — or his bedroom — with an abrupt halt, holding his hand up to prevent Sybil from walking past.

Hastily, Diego opened the door and tossed his knife through the small gap. Barely a moment later, they heard a familiar yelp from inside and the tension that built up in Sybil’s shoulders immediately dropped. 

“Ow! What the Hell?” Luther exclaimed as the two of them stepped inside, flicking the switch on to light up the room and shutting the door behind themselves. “You could’ve killed me!” 

“If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead,” Diego said, snatching the knife out of Luther's hands as Sybil carefully stepped behind him. 

“It’s a nice place,” Luther said, and Diego couldn’t help but look amused as he began removing his knife harness from over his chest. It didn’t take a genius to understand why Luther was there — he was trying to see if he could find anything to pin against Diego, considering he was convinced that he was the one who’d killed their father. “So why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“That you were fighting the night dad died,” Luther explained, looking slightly guilty as he held a poster up in his hand. “I checked with the guys out there.”

Sybil reached out with her hand, and the poster between Luther's gloved fingers shot over into her grasp. She read the crumpled advertisement, recognising it as another one of his fights, one that she’d been invited to but turned down. Boxing and violence in general for entertainment purposes didn’t sit right with her. 

“Yeah, well, I shouldn’t have to prove my innocence to you, or anyone else in this family,” he said, cracking a raw egg on the side of his sink and eating it like it was nothing. “She believed me, without question,” Diego added, nodding towards Sybil. “Why didn’t you?”

“To be honest, I thought you might’ve been involved,” Luther admitted sheepishly. 

“After all this time on the moon and you’re still the same guy.” Sybil exasperated, shaking her head disappointedly. “Didn’t you learn a few things up there, big guy?”

He immediately jumped to defend himself. “Look, you’re right, but I just thought that—”

Diego didn’t give him the chance to finish. “Yeah — we know what you thought,” he announced sternly. “Now… you have a nice day, brother.”

Freezing in his tracks, Luther realised that he’d overstepped his boundaries by a mile. It was one thing to doubt and accuse your family of murder, but to not take their word for it and snoop through their belongings? It was an entirely new low — he was grasping at straws, desperate to be right. Sighing and murmuring his apologies, he took that as his queue to leave and shuffled out of the room. 

“He’s been really letting me down the last few days,” Sybil admitted, shaking her head as she watched him close the door behind himself. “What happened to him being a leader?”

“Yeah — so much for ‘Number One’,” Diego shrugged, grabbing an apple from his mini-fridge and taking a bite out of it, walking past and patting her on the arm. Despite knowing his innocence, there was a tugging feeling in her gut that told her something just wasn’t _right_. She would’ve taken this opportunity to go home and settle herself, but she couldn’t bring herself to go until she got her answers.

“Hey, uh, before I leave,” she began, toying with her fingers. He looked over at her briefly, raising his brows in question. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“No,” he said, immediately. “Why?”

She sighed and tilted her head empathetically. “I always know when you’re lying. Tell me what’s going on.”

He didn’t look at her, and he paused. No words could speak as loud as his silence did — there was _definitely_ something, and he couldn’t deny it now.

“I was the one who took his monocle.”

Sybil frowned. She would never question his innocence as she knew that much was true, but she was still struggling to understand his motive. 

“Why?”

“Every night, Mom takes his monocle to clean it,” Diego explained, rolling his wrists. “I knew that if Luther saw she had it… he’d think his death had somethin’ to do with her.”

“Oh,” she answered softly, as everything began falling into place. “I— I’m not saying you’re wrong, but you need to give it back. They’re gonna go crazy with theories if that monocle doesn’t turn up.”

He scratched the back of his head. “Ah, yeah, about that… I threw it in the water.”

“In the river?” Sybil was baffled. 

“They don’t even deserve to know,” he defended, becoming visibly angrier. “Who knows what Luther would do — he’d probably shut her down.”

“Look, I’m just… I’m gonna leave you to it, let you think it over,” Sybil said, grabbing her keys from the side table she’d dumped them on. “Just do the right thing. Okay, Diego?”

He shrugged.

Shaking her head, she left in pursuit of her vehicle. Not wanting to go home, she pulled out her mobile and shot Klaus a text to check on his whereabouts. 

**Sybil** : where are u?

 **Klaus** : at the house

 **Sybil** : im coming over see u in 10

 **Klaus** : yay :D

When she arrived at her old home, Klaus wasn’t in immediate sight. However, it wasn’t too hard to find him considering she knew to follow the loud sounds of crashing in the distance, and she found him collapsed on her bed with the stash of weed that had been stored away for years.

“Klaus!” She yelled, snatching the half-rolled joint from his hands. He gasped in complaint, reaching his hands out to retrieve the stolen goods. “I was saving this.”

“Saving it for what?!” He said exasperatedly. “There is no time like the present… besides, sharing is caring, dear old sister.”

“I was saving it for me and Diego,” she admitted a little sourly, giving in to her urges and finishing the roll for him. He would’ve failed anyway — his hands were beginning to shake from withdrawal for whatever drugs he’d been on recently. Sybil didn’t want to be an enabler, but she’d much rather he do this in company than in a back alley alone. 

“Oh, screw Diego — he doesn’t deserve it,” Klaus sighed dramatically, watching in awe as she clicked her fingers in front of the joint and setting it alight. “That would’ve been so useful to me… _so_ many times,” he admitted, thankfully taking it off of her to take a drag when she handed it to him. 

Sybil dropped onto the bed next to him, taking the next hit as he offered it to her. At this point, she was willing to do anything to ebb the feeling inside of her, but nothing she did could shake the sense of impending doom. It felt like _death_ was an ocean, and she was slowly wading closer and closer to the depths.

“You good?” Klaus questioned, waving his hello hand in front of her face as she zoned out. Shaking her head free of her dissociation, she smiled and passed the blunt back to him as he grabbed at it with grateful, black-painted fingers.

“Yeah — bad high,” she excused, rubbing her hands down on the front of her smock as her palms began to perspire with stress.

Klaus bit the joint between his teeth and clapped his hands together, rifling through another one of Sybil’s childhood drawers with purpose. He tossed colourful pencils and other nineties junk out of the way before he seemed to grab what he wanted as he squealed with delight. 

“What’re you doing?” Sybil asked, craning her neck to have a look at what he’d grabbed a hold of, worried it would be an old, cheesy notebook she’d doodle or write poems in. She was _not_ ready to be made fun of for her teenage angst just yet. 

He turned around, producing a hard, plastic album. It was an old set of songs, full of hits from the early ’90s and 2000s. The girl rolled her eyes but allowed him to press it into the old yellow stereo on her vanity table before pressing the shuffle button. He pulled her to her feet, turning the volume up to max. She complained against it for a moment, but the way he moved in an uncoordinated way to the music couldn’t help but make her laugh, and she eventually joined in to dance. 

Time seemed to dissolve for a moment, and by the time they’d stopped, they’d danced through the entire forty-minute album session, only to be interrupted by an unimpressed Pogo who 'd been disturbed by the noise. He couldn’t help but smile, too, though, considering it’d been so long that the house had been filled up with rowdy kids that it made him appreciate their silliness. 

If only this would have lasted.

“Do you remember when we used to do this, as kids?” Sybil laughed, catching her breath as she sat on the edge of the bed, tired out.

“Ha! Yeah,” Klaus laughed, remembering as he stared out of the window. “We used to sit right out on that roof over there, ‘cos dad would kill us if he caught us smoking.”

“Well, hey, look at us now,” Sybil murmured, glancing out at that same exact spot. They’d sit there every so often, with another strand of untrusted weed that Klaus had sourced from God knows — but it was fun nonetheless. Occasionally, the others would join in for the fun, but they were usually too afraid to get caught. 

Klaus shrugged his shoulders, turning around with the same flare of attitude that he carried with him everywhere. “I think we’ve grown into quite admirable young adults.”

“There’s nothing admirable or young about getting high and dancing to old music in our thirties, Klaus,” she corrected, laughing at him. 

“Don’t be such a _spoilsport_ ,” he teased with a pout, placing his fists on his hips. “That reminds me — I lost dad's journal.”

The girl frowned, staring over at him. She didn’t even bother asking how he got his hands on it — she knew he was a sucker for digging through people's stuff, probably to pawn off what he could. “Dad's journal? How’d you lose it?” Sybil questioned. 

“I sold the box it was in,” he admitted sheepishly, pointing his fingers together before exploding into laughter. “I bet the old man is _so_ proud.”

“I’ll help you find it in the morning — how about that?” Sybil offered, a little burnt out from all the excitement of the day. 

He pressed his hands to either side of his face. “Oh, you’d really do that? You’re the _best_ ,” Klaus cheered, squeezing her into a tight hug. She patted his arm, cringing at his lack of personal boundaries. “We should have a sleepover!”

“A sleepover?” Sybil questioned, glancing around the room. “I haven’t slept in here for years, Klaus.”

“That doesn’t matter — we can have _wine_ , and gossip, and—” he paused, seeing the look on her face. “Oh come _on_ , we _need_ it after all the past few shitty days. Just one night? Pretty please, Sybil—” 

“Okay, okay, fine,” she interrupted, realising to herself that it could be fun to have some bonding time with the person she considered as her best friend. She could also use it as an excuse to keep tabs on him, knowing he was struggling with his addiction to some sort of pills. “Just one night.”


	3. Episode Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it would really mean a lot to me if you guys left me a kudos and a comment :D

Sybil suddenly became eerily aware that she was dreaming, noticing that all that was around her was a vast, dark emptiness, spare for one bright, distant spotlight. She was cold and barefoot, with nothing but calm water reaching her ankles as she steadily waded forwards with unnerving sloshes. The closer she approached the light, the less comforting it became in the darkness as she feared what she might find. With every step closer, the mound beneath the beam became clearer and clearer.

Upon standing directly underneath the light, her heart jumped into her throat. On top of what looked like building rubble and remains, four of her siblings lay battered, bloodied, and deceased. Struggling to catch her breath, she reached to toss bricks off of the corpses, hoping to identify them as her legs trembled beneath her.

By name, she could count Luther, Klaus, Allison, and Diego. She reached out to touch them, but all at once, their eyes snapped open. But the scariest part of it all was that there was no colour to their eyes and instead, they were ghostly white. 

Falling backward in shock, she scurried to retreat from the scene, and it was that horrifying moment that she realised she wasn’t stepping in water — it was blood. Hot, thick blood. And in the distance, she could hear a scream that sounded  _ just _ like Five. 

Snapping awake in a hot flush, she tossed the duvet covers off of herself to help cool herself down. She nearly frightened herself in shock, as she’d forgotten that she’d stayed the night. Bottles of wine, nail polishes, and empty glasses were cluttered across the floor, and the memories of last night hit her like a  _ truck _ . As much as she regretted the hangover aftermath, she was thankful that Klaus forced her to have some fun. She sorely needed it. 

Klaus appeared in her doorway, his face squished against the wood as he clung to the doorknob for support. He looked more of a mess than Sybil, with dark kohl eyeliner rubbed messily around his eyes and a pastiness to his skin tone. He just seemed to pull it off, though. 

“Mornin’ sleepyhead,” he grinned, to which Sybil responded by using her powers to toss a pillow in his direction. He barely caught it and squeezed it into his torso when he did. “Come on —  _ get up _ . I heard mom’s makin’ bacon and eggs…”

“Fine, fine,” Sybil groaned, realising she’d been defeated. Klaus wandered off as he waited for her to get ready, where she threw on her outfit from the day previously. In hindsight, she should’ve gone home to collect some extra clothes considering everything in her wardrobe here was fit for a teenager. It was creased, but it would do for just a couple of hours before she was able to go home again. “Where’d you go, Klaus?” She mumbled to herself, walking into the hallway to be met with emptiness.

Wandering downstairs to the kitchen where she assumed he would be, she noticed Luther and Allison sat down on the dining table and staring at the back of their mother with perplexed faces. The girl tried not to pay too much attention to them — Diego’s confession was still hot on her mind, and she was worried she might slip up and say something. 

“Good morning, Sybil!” Mother greeted, poking at bacon strips in the frying pan. “We’re just having breakfast. Would you care to join us?”

“That sounds amazing, mom,” Sybil agreed, pressing a hand to her groaning stomach before taking a seat next to Allison, who offered to pour her a glass of orange juice. “What’s going on, guys?” She asked, gratefully accepting the refreshment.

“Uh…” Luther stared at Allison for a moment, as if asking for permission. She nodded, and they both turned to Sybil with hushed voices. “We think mom had something to do with dad's death.”

Sybil nearly choked on her sip of orange juice. “You  _ what _ ?” 

“She’s been acting weird ever since that night,” Luther explained, “and we saw video footage of her the night dad died. It's unclear… but she could’ve poisoned him.”

“Wouldn’t they have seen that in the post mortem?” Sybil questioned, unsure as to why the coroners' office would ever bother to cover for a robot. She didn’t think mom had it in her — quite literally in her programming — to not only be able to murder, but to cover it up. Unless Pogo was involved… 

“Just watch,” Allison said, noticing that Sybil looked defensive. She gestured towards Luther, who nodded.

“Mom,” he started, adjusting uncomfortably in his seat. “We need to ask you some questions about the night that Dad died. Do you remember anything?”

Any other time, Sybil would’ve interrupted them and said they were overstepping the line. But by their strained, concerned faces, something in her told her to bite her tongue. She was only thankful that Diego wasn’t here to witness this, but it was that thought that worried her — would he think her traitorous for doing this?

Slowly, their mother turned around to face them. “Of course! Sunset, seven thirty-three PM. Moon was waxing crescent, dinner was Cornish hen, wild rice and carrots—”

“No, no,” Luther interrupted. “ _ Later _ that night. In his bedroom. Did you go and see him?”

Her eyes appeared to twitch before she smiled. “I don’t recall!”

The three of them exchanged unnerved looks as their mother turned around to continue cooking breakfast. It was then that Sybil felt sick — probably a lovely cocktail of hangover and anxiety — and almost like she could  _ believe _ that she had something to do with his death. 

“Were you ever… I don’t know, angry with Dad?” Allison then questioned. 

She seemed to aggressively scrape the pan at this point, and it didn’t go unnoticed by them. 

“Your father was a good man, a kind man,” their mother said cheerily, her red-painted lips stretched almost impossibly wide. “He was  _ very  _ good to me.”

“Yes, but after we all left, it must have been difficult,” Allison challenged, squeezing her hands together. 

“Oh, there were days. You kids kept me oh so busy, and then…”

At that moment, she became completely silent and her eyes appeared blank and lifeless. It appeared as if her programming were rebooting, but Sybil didn’t miss the look of pure horror and distress on her mother's face. It only happened for a split second — but it made her heart sink. Even if her mother wasn’t involved, it only just now occurred to her that it must’ve been traumatic to go through. 

“Mom, what were you gonna say?” Allison questioned urgently. 

“Eggs are ready!” She exclaimed, presenting the three plates to them, though suddenly Sybil wasn’t so hungry and could barely finish half an egg before she pushed the plate away.

“I need to go find Klaus,” Sybil said hurriedly, excusing herself from the table and dropping the napkin down that she hadn’t realised she’d balled into a fist. First, she went to get some fresh air, though that was what led her to Klaus when she heard him cursing and crashing about around the corner. She found him knee-deep in a dumpster, appearing stressed. “Uh… you okay in there?” She questioned, not daring to step any closer due to fear she might vomit from the stench. 

“Oh, hey! You’re finally here!” He exclaimed, rolling out of the dumpster and pulling her into an unwanted embrace. She tensed, squirming out of his arms. 

“Klaus, you smell like  _ garbage _ ,” she told him, holding a hand over her mouth to suppress her gag.

“Hot garbage,” he corrected, leaning back in to delve through whatever was left in there. He complained about something Sybil assumed Ben was saying to him and puffed smoke from his cigarette. “I’m trying to find whatever… priceless crap was in that  _ priceless box  _ so that Pogo will get off my ass!”

“Oh, I should’ve figured you were the one to steal from dads office,” Sybil rolled her eyes, daring to peek at whatever Klaus was digging through next, and nearly fainted at the thought of the wet trash sludge at the bottom of the dumpster so refrained from doing so. “What was even in the box, anyway?”

“I don’t know! I wasn’t paying attention,” he cried out.

Suddenly, a metallic shake interrupted them as they both looked up to see Five clambering down the ladders holding a large, khaki green backpack on his shoulders. Both Klaus and Sybil were visibly confused — why was he taking this route to get out of the house?

“I’d ask what you’re up to, Klaus, but then it occurred to me…” he began, stepping down onto the solid concrete ground. “I don’t care.”

“Hey!” Klaus said, before frowning. “You know, there are easier ways out of the house, buddy.”

“This one involved the least amount of talking,” Five said with a shrug, digging his hands deep into his blazer pockets. “Or so I thought.”

“Hey, hey, hey, so—” Klaus leaned over the edge, taking a swig from a silver, rusted flask. Sybil could hope he hadn’t sourced it from the trash around him. “You need any more company today? I could, uh… clear my schedule.”

“Don’t you need to find Dad's journal?” Sybil countered, to which Klaus shot her a look warning her to be quiet. She held her hands up in mock defense. 

Five didn’t pay much attention. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full,” he said. 

Klaus murmured something before tripping into the garbage heap, and it was at that moment that Sybil was torn back to her dream. Shuddering, she quickly approached Five and pulled him aside.

“Actually… there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about,” she began nervously, her hands becoming clammy as she squeezed them together. Five looked at her, gripping the straps of his backpack. “I’ve been having this feeling for a long time, and last night I dreamt that—”

“Found it! Thank God!” Klaus exclaimed, standing up in the dumpster only to have a half-eaten bagel in his hand, rather than Dad’s journal. Five took that as his opportunity to turn on his heel and leave, frustrating Sybil.

“Wait, no, Five—”

But he’d already jumped in the van. Groaning and pinching her nose to try to suppress the onset of a pressure headache, she didn’t bother sticking around for the rest of Klaus’ nonsense. On her way back inside, she bumped into Allison who was now clad in an expensive coat and boots.

“Going somewhere?” Sybil teased, smiling. 

“Uh, yeah, actually,” Allison said, thinning her lips into a sad smile. “I’m going to find Vanya. We’re having a family meeting, so I’d appreciate it if you stuck around for a while,” she explained, suddenly pausing mid-way down the stairs. “Actually — do you wanna join me?”

Maybe after all these years, even after what she did, Sybil owed Vanya just some of her time. She shrugged before saying, “I got nothing else to do with my day, so… sure.” 

“Oh, good,” Allison smiled, pleased with her answer. “we’ll stop by your house so you can get changed into something… warmer.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault the weathers been unpredictable,” Sybil laughed, following her and hopping into the passenger seat of her car. 

Once they stopped by her house, Sybil quickly changed into a boho dress and trench coat, much more suited to the weather. She climbed back into Allison's car and buckled herself up. 

“I think she was around here somewhere…” Allison hummed, pulling her car to a stop so that they could walk the last stretch of the street. On their way there, they decided to grab a coffee from a local Starbucks. 

“So, what’s this family meeting about?” Sybil asked, sipping on her soy latte. 

“Uh… it's mom,” Allison nodded stiffly, wrapping her fingers around the cardboard cup. She was hesitating. “Luther suggested shutting her down if he finds out she killed Dad.”

Sybil just wasn’t sure what to say, and for the first time in a while, she’d been rendered speechless. She understood their concerns for their mom, but she didn’t know that they’d get to the point where they felt like turning her off.

“I— I don’t know what to say,” she admitted, taking another sip to give herself a moment to think of the words. “I guess we… oh, look, there’s Vanya.”

“Allison? Sybil?” Vanya questioned, clearly surprised to see them both on the street like this. She wasn’t alone, either — she stood there with an awkward-looking man, who looked a little nervous with the unexpected extra company. 

“Uh, hey,” Allison said, staring at the man with curious eyes. Sybil simply waved.

“Leonard, these are my sisters — Allison and Sybil,” Vanya introduced. Leonard cocked his head toward the two girls as if he recognised their faces. It wasn’t uncommon for Allison to be recognised on the street, considering she was a famous actress, but Sybil typically went unnoticed. 

“Oh — you guys were in that Umbrella thing, weren’t you?” He said, his face lighting up with recognition. Allison and Sybil exchanged a look, wondering how much he knew of the family, and knowing it was awkward to bring up in front of their sensitive sister. Leonard turned to Vanya. “You weren’t in that, were you?”

Vanya looked a little defeated. “No, uh… I was sort of the fifth Beatle of the family, so…”

“I never really did like the Beatles. More of a Stones guy, myself,” he said, smiling over at Vanya with a shine in his eyes.

“Anyway, Vanya, we need you to come home,” Sybil interrupted with a tight smile. 

“Yeah, we’re having a family meeting,” Allison elaborated, squeezing her hands around her coffee cup. Vanya seemed surprised that her sisters had come to source her out, and perked her eyebrows in faint shock.

“You guys want me there?” She said flatly.

“Of course,” Allison reassured, glancing at Leonard a final time. “It’s about mom.”

Vanya hushed her apologies to Leonard, where they made plans to have dinner another night. On their way home, teasing and jokes were implied of a future lover of Vanya’s, who appeared to brush off their words. Sybil swallowed her laughter, still feeling a sickness to her stomach whenever she spoke to her estranged sister. As they were walking, she felt a gentle tug on her sleeve.

“Hey, Sybil,” Vanya spoke, gaining her attention. “Diego told me everything. I’m really sorry.”

Sybil frowned, feeling  _ another _ punch to the stomach. What did Diego tell her, exactly? She could grasp enough from the expression on her sister's face, so she sighed and shook her head.

“Don’t worry about it,” Sybil said, “it’s in the past.”

As much as her words felt like a lie, it was just one more tiny bit of closure they had between them, and it certainly felt like a weight lifted off of both of their shoulders. 

When they returned home, the others were gathered in the living room around a television on wheels. Luther poked it for a moment before it lit up with what appeared to be CCTV footage of Dad’s bedroom, the date showing that it was the night that he died. Everybody debated what was actually happening, whether she was poisoning or not, until Diego paused the footage to point out she was removing his monocle to clean it. The same story he told Sybil. 

“Well, where is it?” Luther demanded. “No, I’ve searched the house, including all of her things. She doesn’t have it.”

Sybil and Diego exchanged a look. She frowned and encouraged him with a nod, to which he sighed and rolled his eyes.

“That’s because I took it from her,” he admitted, pointing with his knife. “After the funeral.”

“You’ve had the monocle this whole time?” Allison snapped, looking over at Sybil who looked as if she wanted to retreat from the conversation. “And you  _ knew _ ? What the Hell?”

Luther outstretched his hands. “Give it to me!”

“Diego threw it away,” Sybil said, fearing he might not admit that fact. She crossed her arms defensively over her chest when they all looked at the two of them with accusatory eyes. 

“ _ What _ ?!”

“I knew that if you found it on Mom, you’d lose your shit,” Diego spat pointedly, his knife stabbing at the air towards Luther. “ _ Just _ like you’re doing right now.” 

“Her hardware is degrading,” Luther concluded. “We need to turn her off.”

“She’s not just a vacuum cleaner you can throw in a closet!” Diego snapped, turning red with anger. “She feels things — I’ve seen it!”

“I’m with Luther,” Allison said, fingers tapping on a fancy crystalised glass, an amber liquid sloshing around inside. Sybil almost became  overwhelmed with the sense of death and doom at that moment, but she steadied herself on the pillar besides Klaus. 

Vanya voted against shutting off mom, and Klaus agreed with her. At this point, the last vote was the most critical. It would either make it a tie or a unanimous decision to  _ not _ turn mom off. Diego stared at Sybil with almost pleading eyes and looking around the room, both Luther and Allison seemed desperate for support, too.

Feeling anxious under the weight of the eyes around her, she shook her head and stared at the ground. At this point, she could only go with her gut. “I’m with these guys,” she admitted, gesturing to herself, Diego, Klaus, and Vanya. “It’s not right just to turn her off like that.” 

Allison and Luther looked sorely disappointed and almost like they couldn't bear to look at her again. They argued that the vote wasn’t right, that they should wait for Five to come around, even though at that point his extra vote wasn’t going to weigh the tide. Sighing, all but Sybil and Diego left the room. The pair of them felt a deep sorrow upon realising that their mother was in the distance, having probably heard a good portion of their conversation. Upon trying to comfort her, she completely dismissed the conversation and insisted on baking cookies.

“There’s definitely something wrong with her, Diego,” Sybil said, chewing on the inside of her cheek with thought as they both leaned against opposite sides of an open doorway.

Diego looked at the ground. “I know. But she loved us.”

“She did,” Sybil agreed, staring off as her mother disappeared into the kitchen. “Maybe you should talk to mom. She always seemed to get through to you, so maybe…”

He nodded in agreement. Sybil rubbed his arm comfortingly for a moment before letting him go on his way, leaving her by herself. She had a lot from the day to reflect on, but the one thing she just couldn’t shake was the thought of last night's dream. Usually, when she had questions she needed the answer to, she would meditate on it. 

Cross-legged on her bed and surrounded by crystals and lit candles, she tried to empty her mind and focus on the dream. What was it trying to tell her? When she was younger she would have occasional visions and feelings, things that usually came true. One of those was that two days before Ben died, she’d sensed something was going to happen to him. She’d never really tapped into these feelings, but this time she was going to  _ listen _ .

She’d just arrived back to the scene of the corpses, and could tell she was missing something from before. There was a newspaper, and if she could  _ just _ reach it… 

Suddenly, gunshots interrupted her chain of thought and she collapsed on the bed after having levitated in the air during her meditative state. Clenching her fists, each candle she’d lit went out and she jumped outside of her bedroom to find Diego tussled up with a large man in a creepy mask. Another person stepped by the room, and Sybil reached to disarm the gun from her with her powers. It fell with a clatter, enabling a hand-to-hand fight that the opposing bunny-mask wearing assassin seemed to get the upper hand with, tossing Sybil to the ground and retrieving their lost weapon.

“Run, Diego!” Sybil yelled, rolling out of the way of a shotgun blast before running down the opposite end of the hallway and taking cover behind a wooden pillar. Once she realised they weren’t in pursuit of her, she grabbed a couple of old potion bottles from her room and made her way to the balcony overlooking the living area. She noticed Diego hunched behind a sofa, avoiding a rain of bullets.

“Hey, over here!” She yelled, tossing the potions in their direction. The bottles exploded at their feet into a cloud of green and purple gas, dissipating moments later but leaving them inebriated long enough for Allison and Luther to get the jump on them. She grabbed onto the banisters but the urge to run down the stairs and help her family was suddenly interrupted as a thought hit her. “ _ Klaus _ !”

She hadn’t seen him running around the house and it worried her, thinking they might’ve gotten to him first. No matter what room she searched in, she couldn’t seem to come across him, and the deeper she travelled the worse the feeling started to get. Finally, she ran into him in his bedroom, headphones on, eyes closed shut. She shook him violently by the shoulders, grabbing his attention. He noticed the scuffle on her face and opened his mouth to say something, but she hurriedly interrupted him. 

“These people here, they’re attacking us—”

“Attacking us?!” Klaus gasped exasperatedly, his ears pricking at the sound of a loud, distant smash. Sybil didn’t allow herself to think of it too much at that point, and spared one look behind her before grasping his shoulders. 

“I think they’re here looking for Five. They said something about a boy — I came here to warn you,” Sybil rushed out, hearing an abundance of approaching footsteps. “Stay here!”

As Sybil stepped out of the door, she readied herself to fight. However, she wasn’t prepared for the needle that pressed down into her neck from behind, and within moments she was limp on the floor, incapable of putting up any sort of fight. With lazy eyes, she was just able to witness the large man butting the back of his gun on Klaus’ head before her body succumbed to the drugs and all that she would remember after that would be empty blackness. 


	4. Episode Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! sorry for no upload yesterday, i was out celebrating my grandmas birthday :)
> 
> i hope y'all had a good weekend! <3  
> (sorry for leaving it on a cliffhanger last chapter hehe)

Prior to the group banding back together since their fathers passing, Sybil worked as a humanitarian crisis worker. It wasn’t good for the money — but that was completely besides the point. With her ability to heal, she felt as if she had a responsibility to use it rather than let it go to waste, so she volunteered whenever she could. She’d worked in places such as Haiti and Yemen. 

She’d discovered she could heal when she was nine. Each number was playing in the yard for the first time in a _long_ time, in the summer heat of mid-August, and she’d found a butterfly crumpled on the gravel with a broken wing. It was alive, but it was nearly gone. 

Being the nature lover she was, she’d cradled the poor creature in her hands. She remembered it so vividly — it had a beautiful hue of azure and violet wings and delicate, intricate patterns. It struggled to flap in her hands, and out of instinct she’d cradled it and prayed for it to come back to health with small chants. When she opened her palm, the butterfly flew away, wings intact. This healing power extended into plants, allowing her to grow them with ease with just the touch of her fingertips. 

The only downside was that she couldn’t heal things back to life. It was the law of nature — once living things were gone, they were gone. There was something inside of her that _knew_ if she tried, if she _really_ tried, that she’d be able to use the power of resurrection. However, it wasn’t her fear of failure that was holding her back — it was the consequences that did. 

Sybil slowly awoke but her eyes remained closed as she strained to listen to her surroundings. 

“I mean, nobody tells me _shit_ —”

It was Klaus, and she could hear the shake in his voice. 

“The truth is, I’m the one person in that house nobody will even notice is gone.”

After a while of floating in and out of the conversation, Sybil finally woke up enough to drink up the situation she was in. She took in her surroundings, immediately flexing to use her powers as she noticed a large man and a tall woman choking her brother Klaus with a cable. Nothing but a creak of his chair came of her power usage, and she felt powerless to stop it. 

Again, with the small amount of exertion, she passed out again. 

The next time she awoke, she felt less groggy and more in control of herself. The dingy motel room was empty, except for a bloodied, soaking-wet Klaus. The two people she must’ve heard earlier stepped out of what appeared to be a bathroom, and suddenly noticing that she was awake, the two suited individuals yanked their masks down over their faces.

“Aw, shit!” The woman said, standing over Sybil and slapping her over the face. “You ain’t see nothin'. And don’t get thinking about using them freak powers of yours,” she threatened, her voice thick with a New York accent as she stood powerfully in front of the girl, her gun steadied in her hand. 

“Oh, hey, Sybil,” Klaus croaked, a weird cheeriness to his voice as he turned his head, blood running from his ears, nose, and lip. She frowned, still hazily trying to make sense of the situation. “Welcome to the land of the living.” His words followed with a deep groan as the man walked over and winded him with a gut punch.

Sybil flinched, struggling in an attempt to wrangle herself free from her restraints but soon giving up. “Why are you doing this?” She asked helplessly, her eyes staring up at the man in an intimidatingly grotesque bear mask. 

“Whilst you’ve been out for the past ten hours, we’ve been trying to get your brother to talk, to no avail,” the man said, his voice a little heartier and clearer. “Perhaps you could help us in that department?”

They’d trained for this — once or twice. She clung onto the distant memory of her father encouraging them to resist different torture methods, and if Klaus had been able to hang on for ten hours then maybe she could, too. Clenching her fists, she shook her head in response.

“I don’t know what it is that you want,” she said.

“That’s because we haven’t told you yet, dumbass,” the woman said, smacking her over the back of the head. Sybil couldn’t see her face but she could just imagine her rolling her eyes beyond the mask. “Hazel, get this over with, wouldya?”

The bear-masked man, who was now identifiable as Hazel, leaned down to get closer to her before flicking the end of her nose. She’d been trying so hard to keep her cool that she’d ended up making herself _more_ on edge, and the nose flick was enough to gain a whimper out of her. She was ashamed, even more so when they began laughing at her.

“This ones gonna be easy to crack,” Hazel said, clapping his hands together as if he were pleased. Sybil stared at him intently as he travelled across the room towards a plate of instruments. Out of fear, she instinctively used her powers to push the tray of tools out of the way. They fell to the floor with a pathetic clatter, and she cursed the drugs in her system for making her so weak she couldn’t even lift a scalpel. He suddenly stormed over and grabbed her face tightly with one hand. “We warned you not to use those powers.”

“What’re you gonna do?” Sybil said, suddenly brave now she realised she quite literally had nothing to lose in this situation. “Drug me again, wait another ten hours for me to talk?”

“You guys suck at this,” Klaus said notably, to which Hazel growled before grabbing a thick wire from the other side of the room, holding it around his throat as if threatening to choke the life out of him in front of her. 

Sybil bit her tongue, trying not to look at what they were doing to him. She knew that if she protested against it, they’d use it as a tool against her. At this point, she wasn’t afraid of what they were going to do to her — only of how much they’d done to Klaus, and how much more he could actually take. Sybil hoped and prayed Ben was somewhere close, helping him stay strong. 

“Now you,” the woman said, pointing directly at Sybil. “Let’s start easy, huh?”

The next few moments were blurred together in blinding flashes of pain, one after the other until Klaus was the one yelling at them to stop. He clearly hadn’t remembered that that would show them a weakness of his, and it encouraged them to continue. They eventually stopped. Sybil shook her head to ease the ringing in her ears, noticing droplets of blood landing on her lap from the wounds on her face. 

“Oh, so now you wanna talk?!” Hazel grunted. “Tell us where the boy is, or we’ll do worse where that came from.”

Sybil stared at Klaus with wide eyes, urging him not to crack with a small shake of her head. He looked like he wanted to spare her from the torment, but kept his lips shut tight and sighed when he realised that she’d have to go through what he did.

“What boy are you talking about?” 

“Your brother,” the woman clarified, leaning close towards Sybil's face. “Spill.”

“I mean, I have a few of them you’re gonna have to be more specific—” her sentence was cut off by Hazel grabbing her by the throat. She strained to breathe, let alone _speak_ against what they were doing and gasped for air the moment his fingers released her. She hadn’t realised how tightly he’d grabbed her until she fell back down with a thud onto her chair. She knew who they were talking about — it was Five, who she’d heard chatterings of during their attack on the Umbrella Academy the day prior. Was it a day ago? At this point, she had no idea. 

“Tell us where he is.”

Sybil squeezed her lips shut as if to physically restrain herself from talking, even though she really knew nothing. The last time she saw Five, herself and Klaus had been scouring the dumpster outside of their house for Dad’s journal. Having tried to speak to him, he’d taken off in the van the first chance he got. 

“I don’t _know_ , okay?” She answered truthfully, her voice straining as if she were begging them to believe her, despite the fact she didn’t owe them anything. “I can hardly get a conversation in with him — what luck do you think you’re gonna have getting a hold of him?”

“Oh, we’ll get him, alright,” the woman said, a hand on her hip. “Even if it means killin’ a few of his siblings on the way.”

Sybil spat the blood gathering in her mouth onto the floor. “You’re gonna have to try harder than that to get something out of me.”

The woman exchanged a look with Hazel before they nodded, opting for shocking her over and over and _over_ until it felt as if every nerve in her body had been fried, but even so, she just sobbed and collapsed against her chair — not a single word spilled. They tried waterboarding, hitting her some more… to no avail. No more information.

“Ah, well lookie here,” Hazel suddenly said, rifling through Klaus’ pockets and retrieving small baggies of an assortment of drugs. Sybil's heart sank — she could see that Klaus was struggling with withdrawals already, considering he was sweating, shaking, and had a yellow-ness to his skin. 

“Hold on— hold on!” Klaus protested, squirming and shuddering as Hazel stomped pills underneath his booted food. “No! No! Stop, please, listen! I can get you cash!”

The woman shook a packet of some unidentifiable powder in his face. “This could all be yours for the low, low price of telling us everything.”

Klaus sobbed, defeated. He spared one last glance at Sybil in apologies, but she felt sorry for him. He’d taken most of the trauma considering she’d been knocked out for the majority of it, and she wanted him to relish in a few moments of peace.

“Okay, fine,” he cried, “okay, I don’t… I don’t know where Five is, I wasn’t lying about that,” he then stared over at his sister, “and the last time she saw him was before me… she doesn’t know anything, I swear.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” the woman said, digging her fingers into Sybil’s shoulders. “You confirm everythin’ your brothers sayin', or you won’t be comin’ back from the next one,” she insisted, pulling a gun and pressing it to her temple.

Sybil froze in her chair, urging Klaus to continue with what little information he knew. She was thankful he didn’t know more — it was enough to satisfy their kidnappers, but not too much that their family would be in direct danger. 

“I can tell you he’s… hasn’t—” Klaus struggled, swallowing. “Hasn’t been making much sense since he came back.”

The conversation continued, where they forced him to elaborate on a glass eyeball that Five had been obsessed with before they shoved the two of them into a small closet, tape around their mouths. The two of them couldn’t converse with one another, but reassuring eye contact was all they needed to provide themselves with a short-lasting bit of comfort to get them through the rest of the night. For all they knew, they could _die_ there. But for some reason, even with the cloud of death looming over her, she knew they were going to make it out alive.

By the time Hazel and the woman arrived back, they could tell it was nighttime by the darkness of the outside before they drew the curtains shut tight.

“You idiot! You didn’t put the do not disturb sign on the door!” The woman complained. 

“I did! I know I—” his voice cut off as if realising he hadn’t. “Shit!”

The two suited agents tore open the door to the closet, sighing in visible relief at the sight of their two captors. 

“Oh my God, they’re still here,” Hazel breathed, “Hi!” He said, and dragged them out into the middle of the room.

The second the tape was torn from their mouths, Sybil spoke up. “Let us go. We already gave you what you wanted — this is pointless.”

The maskless woman scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Well, technically we want your brother. Is he here now?”

Klaus laughed and looked over to the side of the room. “You’re gonna have to be a little more specific on that.”

Sybil held back a laugh, feeling a huge wave of relief and comfort knowing that Ben _was_ present, and he was watching over them. She couldn’t imagine how frustrating it felt to witness the entire ordeal happening and being powerless to stop it, or do anything to help. Her inner laughter ebbed to nothingness when Klaus was back-handed around the face. 

“Well, we left your brother a message. He’ll be here soon,” the woman stated, unimpressed with his attitude. Hazel spun both chairs towards the door as if expecting Five to burst through any second. 

Klaus rocked back and forth, murmuring a chorus of traumatised ‘no’s’. He soon calmed, but Sybil’s heart ached for her brother. She didn’t often see him like this — and it was a harrowing thought to wonder if this is why he turned to drugs all of the time. However, after he calmed, it was that same moment that something in Sybil and Klaus _connected_ , and they knew how to mess with their captors.

Klaus used his ability to conjure and converse with the dead to bring up old victims, and Sybil used what little she had left in the tank to move and shake objects around the room to emulate that they were being haunted. The woman seemed barely unphased by the ordeal, but she was definitely concerned by what she was witnessing as she’d leaned closer to listen to Klaus’ stories of their victims. Hazel, on the other hand, was becoming more and more shaken as Klaus spilled secrets that were bound to get him in trouble. These secrets highlighted what little humanity the man seemed to have as troubled, deceased souls of his past used Klaus as a mouthpiece to thank him for sparing loved ones.

“Bathroom. Now!” The woman demanded, leading Hazel into the bathroom after re-taping their mouths shut to ensure they wouldn’t scream or cry for help.

If they could’ve, Sybil and Klaus would’ve high-fived at that very moment, but spared each other an exhausted grin instead, only to whip their head around at the sound of footsteps. They managed to shuffle themselves towards the door and in desperation, Klaus cried out with what little sound he could make behind the tape.

Sybil’s head pounded and blood trickled from her nose as she once again reached out with her telekinesis to attempt to make some sort of sound. She’d never used it this much before, and it was wrecking her body. But with whatever final breath she had in her, she used her powers to shake the door. 

A few moments later, Detective Eudora Patch appeared around the doorway, gun in her hand. Staring at Sybil with concerned eyes, she seemed to piece things together in her mind as she nodded towards Klaus. 

“You must be Diego’s brother,” she whispered, reaching for a knife and freeing both of them from their restraints. Eudora pushed them towards the other end of the room, presumably out of harm's way as she lifted her gun and took a step forward. She then began firing defensive rounds as Hazel peeked around with his pistol. “Police! Drop the gun or you’re going down!”

Sybil watched as Klaus army-crawled forwards into the loose vent, leaving Sybil two very risky options. Option one — follow him through the vents, most likely to not make it through in time. Option two — hide under the bed, and hope they don’t find her. In the desperation of a life-threatening moment, she went with the latter. 

“I’m coming out — don’t shoot!” Hazel exclaimed.

“Hands behind your head, asshole,” Eudora demanded. 

“Okay, just don’t shoot,” Hazel said, his voice eerily calm considering he had the end of a barrel pointed towards his head. 

Moments later, Sybil heard a singular shot and a small gasp followed before Eduora’s body fell with a thud to the ground, her gun crashing to the carpet beside her. Patch held her gaze with Sybil under the bed, until they became lifeless and clouded only seconds later. The hiding girl held her fist to her mouth, attempting not to yell out in horror at the scene she witnessed as blood started to creep closer and closer to her.

“The briefcase!” Hazel exclaimed, to which two pairs of footsteps ran out of the room.

Sybil waited what felt like hours but was more realistically a few passing minutes before she crawled out from underneath the bed, staring at the lifeless, bloodied corpse on the carpet ahead of her. Approaching footsteps made her freeze in place, but the voice that cried and begged with fruitless pleas made her stomach churn not with fear but with a feeling of deep, guilt-ridden sorrow.

Knives clattered to the floor as Diego shot across the room to cradle the body on the floor. Sybil reached forward to touch his shoulder, and it was only then that he realised she was there as he violently flinched away from her touch in surprise. Upon recognising her his face twisted with visible confusion and anguish.

“I—” Sybil didn’t know what to say, and her voice cracked against the pressure. “Diego, I’m so sorry.”

“Why didn’t you save her?” Diego cried, his face a picture of heartbreak. 

“It was a fatal shot, Diego, I— I couldn’t save her even if I tried,” Sybil argued, knowing he was trying to find something tangible to blame. 

“But you can heal! You let her die! You let her die!” He yelled, turning back to Eudora's limp body with a gut-wrenching sob.

“They would’ve killed me if—” 

“Just _shut up_! You’re useless!” 

She didn’t feel like she deserved that — but it still felt like he’d ripped her heart out with his fist even so. Holding back her own tears, she brought herself to her aching feet and went to make her way out of the room. She was _hurt._ She was _angry_. Sybil knew that Diego must be hurting, but wasn't he concerned for her, too? With the negative feelings brewing, she felt a new-found surge of power and energy and used it to slam the door shut behind her violently without ever touching it. 

For a moment she felt relieved at the sound of approaching sirens, but knew she had to avoid the help in fear that Diego would get caught in the mess and blamed for Eudoras murder. Even after his cruel words, she put him first. She worried about him first. At this point, she felt she might as well tattoo door-mat on her forehead. 

Scrambling to a desolate street, Sybil ignored the odd looks she got from the civilians on the way and she stopped with a huff of air to lean against a payphone for a short break. It was at that moment that she got an idea — a bad idea, at that — and didn't think twice before struggling to bring it to fruition. She managed to scrounge the few pieces of change in her pocket into the payphone where she dialed the only person's number she knew off by heart. 

Clinging to the hard plastic phone, Sybil counted each note that the phone rang. She pleaded and begged for an answer, tapping it against the side of her head as the call only had another second before it would ring out. However, she heard the familiar click of an answer on the other end of the line and her heart jumped with relief. 

“Hello?” The woman's voice spoke.

Sybil squeezed her eyes shut. “Blair. I need your help.”


	5. Episode Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is not my favourite chapter so far but it's starting to get a little juicy so i hope y'all enjoy hehe

Before their mother had given them names, each child at the Umbrella Academy was numbered in order of usefulness. This wasn’t down to their powers, per se, and more on their characteristic and personal qualities that would make them more suited to be a leader. 

Unfortunately, due to her disinterest in learning in her earlier life, Sybil had landed at the _bottom_ of that list. She had a creative head on her shoulders and went about everything without a care in the world, which was something her siblings first admired. Eventually, they all followed the scrutiny she received from her father, and they’d teased her for it. It was funny how the characteristic that she was mocked for suddenly became everything that her siblings craved in adulthood, and it possibly explained why they all seemed to come to her with their problems. It was ironic, really, considering the most care-free, compassionate person in their family was the most anxious and stressed. How could you possibly relax when all you dreamt about was finding everybody you ever loved in a pile of rubble?

Five had a _lot_ of explaining to do.

Sybil wasn’t sure how this had happened, or why she’d allowed herself to get into this position. She’d ended up collapsed in the passenger seat of her ex-girlfriend's car, feeling as if she were the only person she could turn to. _Blair_ — of all people — was the only person she felt like she could turn to.

Blair reached over to grab Sybil’s hand, not taking her eyes off the road. Sybil noticed how cold it felt against hers.

“I’ve been waiting for you to call me again,” she admitted, her voice just as pleasantly lilted as it always had been. “I thought we were through for good last time.”

Turning towards the window, Sybil felt hot tears pricking the back of her eyes as she thought of how to answer. Too much time passed and she chose to not say anything at all, opting for staring out of the window instead. 

“You gonna tell me what happened, or?” Blair murmured, referring to her bloodied and bruised appearance as she pulled into the driveway of Sybil’s apartment.

“Let’s just get inside,” Sybil urged, to which the other girl agreed quietly.

It pained Sybil so much to be in the presence of her ex-girlfriend again, but she was truly so distraught from the events of the evening that she succumbed helplessly to her inner desires. She wanted familiarity, she wanted _comfort_ , and this was as close as she was going to get. Maybe the guilt that Blair held would be enough to get just a squeeze of empathy from her for an evening, and Sybil was going to take advantage of it. 

Blair was just as beautiful as she last was — slender and tall, with jet-black hair inky against her flawless porcelain skin. If she wasn’t so awful on the inside, Sybil would never understand how she deserved a girlfriend like her. But everything figures, right?

“Sit down,” Blair ordered, to which Sybil sat down on her grey sofa. Nothing felt real, and she was simply going through the motions. If anything, she was thankful for the direction Blair was giving her otherwise she might still be out on the street somewhere. Blair returned from the bathroom with a handful of first-aid supplies and sat down next to her. “So how come you can’t go to the Hospital?”

“Uh…” Sybil zoned back in, blinking slowly and heavily. “Family trouble.”

“You mean legal trouble?” Blair concluded with raised brows, reaching forwards to wipe the dried blood away from Sybil's face with an antiseptic wipe. It stung, but she didn’t even flinch. “But I think you just wanted to see me,” she commented boldly, looking a little proud of herself as she stuck a butterfly plaster on Sybil’s split eyebrow.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Sybil said with a soft laugh, gratefully accepting the towel full of frozen peas that Blair had made to press against her swollen lip. They stared at one another for a long-winded moment, and there was a thickness to the atmosphere that built up around them like humidity. Months of walls that Sybil had been building up to defend her against this woman started to crack and crumble underneath her grey eyes, and they kissed.

But the moment their lips touched, the poison of her tongue and her lips left a horribly familiar sour taste in Sybil's mouth and she retracted. She caught Blair’s wrist as she reached to pull her face towards hers again, and looked anywhere but her eyes.

“What’re you doing?” Blair snapped.

“I— I can’t do this. Not right now,” Sybil admitted, shaking her head as she squeezed her eyes shut, willing the approaching tears to _not_ make an appearance.

Blair took Sybil's hand into her own. “Look. How about we stop by and get you some doughnuts in the morning — you know, your favourites,”

Sybil agreed that maybe just some food comfort would be the best way to pass the time. She just didn’t have it in her to say that doughnuts were never her favourites. Besides, who didn’t enjoy eating their feelings? The freshly revamped fast food place had a sale on after the shoot-out a couple of days ago, so the next morning herself and Blair found themselves sitting in a booth corner with milkshakes and pastries. 

“So, are you going to tell me what happened yet?” Blair pressed on. Again, Sybil was a little ruffled by her tone. It didn’t feel as if she were concerned — it felt as if she thought she had a _right_ to know, and she didn’t. She couldn’t fault her for it, really, considering she was using her just as much as the other girl was using her at that moment. 

Sybil sipped from her chocolate shake, staring down at her untouched eclair. “I know how you’re going to react,” she admitted, poking around at the brown liquid with a paper straw tiredly. “I guess I just… got caught up in another number's trouble, that’s all.”

Blair scoffed. “What’d I tell you about that dumb Academy? You know, you’re so much better off without them. Especially Klaus and Diego.”

Sybil perked her brows, feeling as if she’d been punched in the heart, though she maintained her composure for the sake of the moment. “Oh, really? They said the same about you.”

“Well, what do they know,” Blair hummed, looking at Sybil's untouched food. “Are you going to eat that? I paid for it.”

“You know what?” Sybil said, sucking in a breath as she pushed forward the milkshake and eclair. She’d officially reached her breaking point. “I’m not hungry. Indulge yourself,” she muttered, stepping out of the booth and making her way towards the exit of the diner.

“Wait, where are you going?” Blair said, following after her hurriedly. Sybil didn’t look back as she stepped out into the parking lot, huffing air as she noticed that wind had picked up since they were last outside. Blair reached to grab Sybil’s hand but she harshly yanked away.

“You know — I really enjoyed today, Blair. It gave me _just_ the right amount of closure I needed,” Sybil snapped, turning towards her with an angry stare. “You clearly don’t know anything about me or the Academy. You’re the most selfish person I know. How would you know what it's like to be there for people like that?”

Blair looked offended.

“Sybil.”

The girl in question turned around, her stomach churning at the sight of Diego, a sheepish Klaus stood a couple of feet behind him. Diego was the last person she wanted to see right now — especially when she was in a vulnerable mindset, and caught with her ex that he detested. Regardless, there was something about his presence she was almost pleased to see — maybe him seeing her and Blair together would give him something to think about before he called her useless again. 

“What are you doing here?” Sybil said, frowning.

“I could say the same to you,” he retorted, his eyes glazing over Blair up and down with a filthy look, as if she were dirt he’d stepped in. He looked back at Sybil, seeming very unimpressed. “What the Hell are you doing here, with _her_?”

“Quite frankly, that’s none of your business,” the pale girl shot back, an attitude to her tone. Sybil held up her hand in the girl's face as a way to tell her to shut up.

“Don’t get involved, Blair,” she told her, turning back to Diego. “What right do you have, telling me what I can and can’t do?” 

“That’s not what I’m doing — I’m protecting you,” Diego defended, clenching his jaw.

She scoffed, barely believing the words she was hearing. “ _Protecting_ me? What, because I’m too useless to do that myself? You know what, Diego, you’re unbelievable.” She said incredulously. 

“That’s not what I meant—”

She stepped closer, staring up at him with a threatening glare. “Is it not?” 

Klaus sauntered between the two of them and gently pushed them apart with his classic grin on his face. “Can’t we all just get along?”

Sybil then took the time to stare at him, noticing that his hair had changed, his skin had darkened and he adorned a depressed glaze over his eyes that the grin didn’t quite cover-up. He looked like he’d been through Hell — but upon closer inspection, she noticed that his wounds from the previous night were completely healed. Turning away, she focused on the problem.

“Do you even _know_ what Klaus and I endured the other day?” Sybil poked Diego in the chest, who looked towards the sky as if he couldn’t be bothered to hear it. “Hey! I’m talking to you. Listen,” she urged. “I was drugged and tortured for hours upon hours,” she battled, pushing him. It wasn’t enough for him to topple, but he lost his footing for a moment.

“All I could do was hope that somebody would show up sooner or later,” Sybil's eyes began to water, and she cursed herself for not appearing stronger. “I’m sorry that Eudora was the first to arrive, Diego, but you can’t fault me for her death.”

Diego visibly swallowed, still struggling to maintain eye contact with her.

“I’ve done nothing but support you,” Sybil shook her head, “I’ve bent my morals just so you didn’t feel alone. I defended you when you weren’t there to defend yourself. And this is what I get in return? You get to walk back in and dictate—”

He suddenly grabbed her bicep and began dragging her towards his car.

“What do you think you’re doing—”

Diego shushed her, pulling her around the corner of the building and pointing towards a large, suited man taking a quick double-take to the restaurant before climbing into a blue car. She immediately recognised him as the man who had tortured her, and it made sense why Diego and Klaus had shown up — they were tracking him. 

“You’re not telling me you’re planning to kill these guys, are you?” Sybil hissed. 

“Just get in the car,” he demanded. As much as she wanted to do _anything_ against his words, she felt helpless. She could only assume that this was Diego’s revenge porn plot in an attempt to do good by Eudora, and, knowing him, he wasn’t just going to drop this. As the thought clicked, she felt a tug of guilt for how she’d just blown up in his face — he was grieving, and this is how he was dealing with it. Maybe she should’ve cut him some more slack but she would’ve appreciated an apology first. 

Sybil sat in the backseat, feeling her senses running on overdrive as they pulled up towards the motel. It was almost as if her instincts were telling her to _run_ , and she had to remind herself with a deep breath that she was safe, and she wasn't going to be trapped in that room again. Suddenly, Diego exited the vehicle to tag a tracking device to Hazel's car before pulling up and slipping the car behind an ice cream truck. It wasn’t the best of hiding spots, but it gave them the best view of their motel room from here. Sybil remembered the previous night, and how Eduora's body was on the floor in a bloodied heap. She wondered if it'd been cleaned by now.

“You do know that killing these people is not gonna make you feel any better,” Klaus said, taking a long swig from his bottle of vodka. 

She agreed with Klaus on that, but couldn't help but indulge herself in the thought of getting revenge. Typically, that wasn't the sort of thought process that she ran off, and would rather keep herself and her family safe before putting them at risk for the sake of giving them a taste of their own medicine. However, it seemed Diego had rubbed off on her more than she'd liked to admit. Maybe she was lying to herself, _convincing_ herself she had the moral high-ground when really they were more alike than she thought. 

“Yeah, but when it's done,” Diego paused, unclicking his seatbelt and readying his weapons, smirking at Klaus. “I’m gonna sleep like a baby.”

Klaus rolled his eyes. “Sure you will.”

They all looked up at the motel balcony as Hazel walked out of his room, clutching some sort of bucket in his arms. He seemed oblivious to their presence and walked the stretch of the building without turning his head. It was very suspicious activity, they could all say that much. But maybe he was just a large, dumb oaf, walking out to them as if serving himself on a silver platter. Whatever it was, they couldn't take any chances in letting him get away.

“Stay in the car,” Diego demanded.

“Diego, don’t be like this _now_ ,” Sybil sighed, frustrated that he never let himself depend on his siblings for aid when she would always insist that safety was better in numbers, _especially_ when you had inhuman abilities. 

“Yeah, what’re you talking about, this guy tortured us,” Klaus interjected, confused as to why Diego believed he had all the right to relish in this man's death, whether it would make any of them feel better or not. 

“I have a plan,” Diego shot back with a glance, getting out of the vehicle before the other two could complain about it.

Sybil stared after him, knowing he was going to get himself into trouble if at least one of them didn’t tag along. Exchanging a look with Klaus, they needn’t say anything to one another before they were already hot on Diego’s tail, following him up the stairs towards the line of dingy motel rooms. He clearly hadn’t noticed them, as they both popped up behind him just as he was about to lunge forwards. 

“So what exactly is the plan here, big guy?” Sybil pointed out, realising that her having caught him off guard was enough to know that he wasn’t in the right mindset to be doing this alone. Just like Eudora, either one of the suited, masked assassins could get the upper hand on him. 

He froze, unimpressed. “I told you two to wait in the car.”

“You also told me that licking a nine-volt battery would give me pubes,” Klaus reminded him, knocking back another glug of the alcohol. Sybil held a hand to her mouth to suppress her giggle. 

“We were eight,” Diego reminded him, pulling Klaus by his jacket as he tried to go after Hazel himself. However, they froze in position upon hearing the exerted screech of a car revving to max speed, and they peeked their heads around the corner only to barely miss a rain of shots. Diego, on the other hand, wasn’t so lucky and managed to take a bullet to the arm as Sybil grabbed him by the shoulder with force to pull him into cover. If she hadn’t reacted as such, the bullet could’ve hit him in the heart.

With the force of her yank, she pulled him so close that their chests collided. Frowning, she released her grip on the material of his shirt after a few weird seconds of a tense pause. 

“Not so useless now, am I?”

He groaned, staring down the stretch of road in the car park as he watched the car pull off in a different direction in an attempt to escape unfollowed.

“They’re getting away!” He exclaimed, heading down the stairs in a hurry.

Sybil put her hands on her hips, proud of herself. “You’re welcome,” she managed to say before she was dragged along by Klaus without her being able to think about it for a second longer. They came across Diego’s car in the same position it was, only this time it was significantly lower to the ground. Simultaneously, they murmured their annoyance, noticing that the wheels had been blown out and this technically hindered them useless in chasing them. Diego clutched his shot arm and sighed frustratedly.

Sybil theoretically _could_ heal him, but she thought he deserved to suffer just for a few minutes. 

“Let's take the truck,” she said with a tone that implied it as the only obvious choice, pointing towards it. The three of them stared and the ice-cream van and Klaus turned to her with a delighted face. 

“That’s a _great_ idea!”

Diego shouldered past her with a smirk. “Out of all people, I didn’t think it’d be you who suggested we commit grand theft auto.”

She helped open the conveniently unlocked door for him, noticing he was struggling with his sore arm. “You got any better ideas? Get in the passenger's seat — Klaus will drive.”

“I can’t drive,” Klaus explained.

Sybil shrugged. “Diego’s in no position to, either, and I need to look after him. Just get in!”

Without another question, Klaus dove into the car as Sybil sat squished between her two brothers. Sybil pointed out a few of the controls for Klaus to follow before he set off in a hurry, chasing the tracking device that had been planted on the underside of Hazel’s car. They ran red lights, and barely avoided cars as they made their way there. At some point, Klaus pressed a large, colourful button purely out of interest, and was delighted to find that the typical childlike tune started playing from the speakers. 

“We’re closing in!” Diego informed them.

“Look, that's them!” Sybil shouted, pointing towards another car in the far distance as they came down a largely isolated country road. As they came closer, she noticed Luther was there, with Five next to him. As they drove past, they looked out of the window to offer them a wave. It was pretty comical, given the situation.

“ _Faster!_ ”

Klaus put his foot on the gas, propelling the ice-cream truck so fast that they ended up smashing into the back of the blue car that they’d been helplessly tracking and possibly destroying it to an extent that it wouldn't be drivable. All of them flew forwards against the dashboard, grunting from the impact.

“Good God!” Klaus complained. “Oh, ow!”

“Go, go!” Sybil encouraged, elbowing Klaus out of the car and turning to help Diego limp out. Klaus and Sybil bore his weight on their shoulders, urging him forwards as he clearly had taken the brunt of the hit and wasn’t capable of moving at their speed, considering the shot in his arm was taking a toll on him. 

“My _shoes_ hurt,” Diego complained.

Luther ran over and took the weight from Sybils' arm, to which she took that as her queue to run towards his car to open the back door for him so that Diego and Klaus had a quick, safe entrance from the fast-approaching Hazel and angry lady. Sybil _really_ had to learn what that woman's name was if she was going to keep running into her this much. 

“What the Hell are you guys doing here?” Klaus exclaimed, surprised to have run into both Luther and Five, and wondering how the two of them were somehow connected to Hazel and the other angry assailant. Luther didn’t answer — he probably didn’t have time to explain.

Once again, Klaus, Diego and Sybil were squashed together in the back of a car as Luther took the front seat. 

“Luther! Go, go go go!” Klaus encouraged, turning around for a split second to flip the bird out of the back window to an unhappy, dishevelled looking Hazel. Laughing, he turned to Sybil who gave him a high-five. It was an exhilarating drive, and it took them all a moment to come down from their adrenaline rush.

Sybil collapsed her head on Diego’s shoulder after analysing his wounds and making sure she wouldn't hurt him further.

“I’m still mad at you, you know,” she said, barely catching her breath.

He let out as much as a laugh as he could muster before reaching over and patting her on the arm. “Yeah, I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so... I'd love it if you guys let me know what you thought of this chapter! A kudos and a comment would be much appreciated :D


	6. Episode Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait on this one, i had a little bit of writers block over the past few days! i hope y'all enjoy! <3

Sybil felt an overwhelming surge of energy run through her skin like intense heat, penetrating her bones and rushing through her bloodstream. She could tell that she was levitating — but she didn’t know how.

All that was around her was purse death, destruction, and fire. As much as it was a terrifyingly new experience, everything felt _familiar_. The bodies of her loved ones lay again in their collapsed heap of rubble, and even though it wasn’t the first time she’d seen it, it was still just as traumatising.

For some reason, she knew that she’d already died. She couldn’t tell if she was astral projecting her soul into the next realm, or if this were her last, fleeting moments before she shut off for good. She couldn’t put her thumb on it — but she was shot awake in a cold sweat when Five made direct eye contact with her.

Later that morning, Sybil was encouragingly rubbing Klaus’ back as he chucked the remaining drugs from his stash into the toilet to flush them down. He’d seemed to have made some sort of complete turn around, and decided that he wanted to sober himself up. After a brief explanation, she understood that he’d managed to tackle their kidnappers' briefcase which allowed him to travel time — a time where he’d met the man he fell in love with. Apparently, he wasn’t able to access his powers if he was on drugs, which meant he’d give them up just for the opportunity to see him again. She hated to see him in pain, so she’d do her best to support him.

Suddenly, somebody abruptly knocked on the door.

Klaus waved his arm. “Busy!” He exclaimed, sniffing and rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. The two of them expected the unwanted visitor to leave, but Luther opened the door without another knock and didn’t bother questioning the sight of his brother crouched over the toilet.

“Oh, good, you’re up,” Luther said flatly, nodding at Sybil who folded her arms in questioning. “We need to talk,” he expanded, noticing their blank, unimpressed faces. “You, me, and the others. So meet us in the living room,” he said to them both. He paused once again, hovering in the doorway awkwardly. “Like, now-ish?”

Klaus shook his head, too miserable to even get up from his crouched position. “Yeah, that sounds like a real rager, but my schedule’s already chock-full.”

Sybil apologetically leaned on the bathroom door, easing to close it before Luther stopped it with a strong hand and stared her dead in the eyes. 

“We have no time for that. The world’s ending in three days,” he said, eerily nonchalantly. The girl was taken aback, but on top of her sudden death anxiety and her hyper-realistic dreams, she believed every word that came out of his mouth. She nodded and turned softly to Klaus.

“Hey, Klaus, come on,” she encouraged, grabbing him by the elbow and helping him to his feet. “Dave can wait — we can spare Luther a few minutes of our time,” she pressed on, to which he reluctantly agreed as they left the bathroom together. They arrived in the living area where Allison gave out coffee to appreciative hands, and Luther sat at the bar with a nervous look on his face.

Sybil sat herself down next to Diego, staring at his arm pulled up in a cotton sling. He hadn’t bothered asking her to heal it, knowing she’d shoot back some sarcastic remark. She almost _hoped_ he’d ask, just so she could rub his face in it a little bit, but she knew he had too much pride to do that so her ammunition would remain dormant. 

“ _Three_ days?” Allison exclaimed, passing the final cup of coffee to Luther with widened eyes, almost as if she didn’t believe him. Well — how _could_ she? Sometimes Sybil had to remind herself that she was the only sibling that was sensitive to the energies of the Universe. She wondered what it was like to be so blissfully ignorant, and almost craved it for a sense of relief, even just for a moment.

“The old bastard did mention the apocalypse, come to think of it,” Klaus agreed, sitting cross-legged on the floor. Sybil shot him a look as if to silently ask why he hadn’t told anyone, but he merely shrugged. “He just left out the part about how soon.”

Allison frowned, glancing at the group. “But can we trust him? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Five’s a little—” Allison spun her finger beside her temple to symbolise how crazy Five had been acting since he got back. 

“Our little psycho,” Klaus mused, humoured. Sybil kicked him with the toe of her boot playfully.

Luther fumbled with the coffee cup in his hands. “He sounded pretty convincing,” he insisted, “if he wasn’t trying to stop an apocalypse happening, those lunatics wouldn’t be chasing him.”

Sybil felt her heart pull. So she and Klaus had _really_ put up with all those hours of torturing for her brother to continue trying to stop the apocalypse. She sunk back into the sofa, unsure as to whether or not that made the whole ordeal seem _worth_ it. 

“ _That’s_ why they were after him?” Diego questioned, clearly putting things together in his head as his expression hardened. Luther confirmed his suspicions, and Diego shook his head, clearly annoyed. Whether that was directed at Five or the two assassins, she couldn’t tell.

“Luther,” Sybil spoke up, grabbing everyone’s attention. “This apocalypse… What else did Five tell you? What did he see?”

“Uh… apparently,” Luther hesitated, swallowing nervously. “We all fought together against whoever was responsible.”

“We all die, don’t we, Luther?” Sybil asked sheepishly. Everybody turned to look at her with surprised expressions. “It’s just like what happened with Ben,” she explained shyly, leaning forwards and clasping her hands together. “I’ve been having these visions and these nightmares about… well, finding you all dead.”

“What, and you didn’t think to tell us?” Allison asked as if that were the obvious thing to do.

Shrugging defensively, Sybil shook her head. “Nobody believed me last time.”

“You’re not exactly right,” Luther explained, staring at her. “Five said that he found us all dead… except for you,” he added, tipping his coffee cup in her direction.

“Except for _me_?” She asked, her voice raising an octave in disbelief. What made 'number eight' so special that she survived when nobody else did?

The group burst out into back and forth arguments at that point, unable to grasp an understanding of the concept that Luther had dropped on them. They ended up gathering around the bar, discussing how best to go about essentially stopping the apocalypse — but how could you stop something when you weren’t sure of how it started in the first place? 

Diego eventually shook his head, frustrated that the conversation wasn’t going anywhere. “No — we need to figure this out.”

“Is it just us?” Allison questioned, nodding towards the other siblings. 

“It’s everybody,” Luther countered, tiring after answering all of their questions. 

“In the house?”

“Like the whole _planet_?”

Luther shook his head, waving his hand to interrupt their sporadic thoughts, theories, and questions. “No, outside the house. Everyone died.”

“Hey,” a distant, quiet voice spoke, drawing everybody's attention behind them to Vanya, who frowned at the sight of her crowded family. Leonard stood behind her, looking like the same, awkward nerd that he was when Sybil first met him. “What’s going on?”

Allison looked to Sybil for support, as if they were both wondering why Leonard was there, uninvited, into their homes.

“It’s a family matter,” Allison clarified, staring down at Leonard. 

Vanya scoffed. “A family matter,” she repeated, following it with a shrug. “So of course you couldn’t bother to include me.”

“No, it's not like that, we were—”

Vanya rolled her eyes, heading towards the exit. “Please, don’t let me interrupt.”

Both Sybil and Allison walked towards Vanya to make her wait, so they could at least explain in a small portion as to why they couldn’t share this with her right now. Sadly, when you had no powers ( _and_ you invited your unwanted boyfriend) some things just had to go unsaid. 

“We can fill you in later when we’re alone,” Sybil offered.

“Please, please, don’t bother,” Vanya cursed with new-found confidence and bitterness to her tone that shocked both of her sisters. “And I won’t either.”

“Vanya, that’s not fair,” Allison countered, offended.

“ _Fair_?” The other girl seemed to gasp in astonishment and stared at the other two girls with piercing judgment. “There’s nothing fair about being related to you. I have been left out of everything for as long as I can remember. I used to think it was Dad’s fault, but he's dead. So it turns out, _you’re_ the assholes.”

Sybil had to admit — that stung. She wondered to herself if she’d been too harsh on Vanya over the years, and just used the excuse that everybody else did in saying that their father was to blame. It wasn’t fair to constantly hold that over their sister's head, but she believed the family as a whole had healing to do. If only Vanya _understood_ , then maybe she wouldn’t be acting out like this. 

The conversation soon disbanded as everyone went their separate ways. Their attempts to stop the apocalypse felt futile, especially since this must’ve been what happened in Five’s alternate timeline. She couldn’t wrap her head around the fact that out of everybody on the planet, _she_ survived. How was it possible?

In order to gather her thoughts, Sybil wandered around the house until she came across Five’s room. It was scrawled with equations and numbers that meant practically nothing to her, so there was no way she could make sense of it even if she were to try. Helplessly and a little guiltily, she thrashed through his things as if searching for something even though she didn’t know what. Eventually, she came across his duffel bag, and upon opening a zip compartment she felt a glossy photograph.

Pulling it out, she noticed that it was her and Five, posing in front of a collapsed, fiery building. They looked rough and worn, and upon turning it over she noticed there was a little note.

_April 1st, 2020_

_Here’s celebrating our first year alone in the apocalypse_

_Cheers!_

Soon, her confusion blended into understandable frustration. Why hadn’t Five told her? Why is it that she was kept out of the loop for so long when it seemed as if Luther and Klaus already knew? Was he hiding it from her for a reason?

Frowning hard, she stuffed the picture into her pocket before looking for Klaus to see if he knew anything else and left out any details of the apocalypse. It didn’t take long for her to find him, as she heard him and Diego conversing in the attic. Stepping inside, she was surprised to see Diego tying Klaus to a chair.

“Oh, hey, perfect timing,” Diego said, circling Klaus with a blue rope. Sybil stared at them with a questioning raise of her brows, unsure as to what they were doing but certain it had something to do with Klaus conjuring the dead. “You can help me tie him up.”

Sybil rejected his offer with a laugh. “I’m sure you’ll manage,” she mustered, clearing her throat as she pulled the photograph from her pocket with shaky hands. “There’s something I want you guys to see.”

She stepped towards the two of them and offered Diego the picture. He took it, staring at it for a moment with a frown on his face before flipping it over and reading the note that she’d once read. Klaus barely got to have a look, but he got the gist of things.

“It’s just what Luther said,” Diego said with a shrug, passing the picture back as he resumed his previous job. “You survived — we didn’t.”

“I know but…” Sybil chewed her lip. “Something just doesn’t _feel_ right. I mean, why didn’t Five tell me?”

“Maybe he thought you wouldn’t bother trying if you knew you’d live,” Diego suggested. Sybil shook her head.

“As much as I’d like to agree with you, I think everybody knows that I’d be the last to leave you all behind — give me that much credit,” she said with a smirk. Her words were a purposeful jab toward Diego, hinting back to the night he’d let her go after calling her useless. 

“Alright, alright, I got it,” Diego brushed off.

Klaus stared at the floor with widened eyes. “I think I’m sensing some unresolved issues… may we _please_ clear the atmosphere. I cannot be coping with bad energy messing up my juju right now or so god help me I will snort a line of attic dust.”

Sybil pulled a face. “Yeah, well. Tell that to the one with all the pride, Klaus.”

“No need to make digs,” Diego shot back, shaking his head as he tied a knot on the rope around Klaus before sighing. “I’m sorry for what I said, okay?” He said, his tone coming across sarcastic and almost annoyed.

She folded her arms, unimpressed with his attitude. “That’s not gonna cut it. You need to say it like you _mean_ it.”

Diego frowned. “Oh, yeah? What’re you gonna do about it? Make me?”

“Listen here, knife boy—” 

“My _God_ ,” Klaus suddenly said, to which they both turned to him. His eyes had been shooting back and forth between them like he was following a tennis match, and he seemed all too entertained by their small jabs but interrupted them even so. “The sexual tension here is astronomical— hey!”

Sybil had smacked him playfully over the head to stop him in his tracks, feeling her cheeks flush. She wasn’t often embarrassed, but this really hit a nerve for her and she’d rather not appear vulnerable in that sense. Diego shot her a look, frowning.

“Did you tell him?” He asked defensively.

She shook her head, not picking up what he was referencing. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

Klaus laughed, and he would’ve clapped his hands together in excitement if they weren't tied down to his torso. “Okay — _now_ I’m interested.”

Diego shook his head, folding his arms over his chest as he analysed Klaus’ intrigued expression. He knew that nothing would stop him from continuous questioning, as if there were to be one thing Klaus loved more than drugs it was scandalous _gossip_.

“Let’s go talk somewhere else,” Diego offered, to which Sybil agreed with an encouraging nod of her head. Ignoring Klaus’ protests, Diego took Sybil by the elbow and gently led her down a set of stairs and into his childhood bedroom on the lower floor. 

Sybil sat herself down on his bed, waiting to entertain herself with his apologies or explanations as he paced the room. 

“Come on then — let’s hear it,” she pressed, using her powers to hover an old bouncy ball in her hands to occupy her whilst she impatiently waited for his words. 

“You know… I said it like an asshole, but I meant it,” he began, stopping in his tracks as he spoke facing away from her as if too ashamed to own up directly towards her. “I’m sorry for what happened that night. I was grieving over Eudora, and I was angry with myself for not having noticed you were missing sooner.”

She nodded, her smugness melting away into empathy. She held no grudge, nor did she even judge him for what he did. Usually, she might hold onto things in bitterness, but she just couldn’t with Diego and she cursed herself for harbouring such a soft spot for him. He was easily becoming her weakness, or maybe she was just finally admitting to herself that he’d been her Achilles heel and was at his beck and call the entire time. 

“I didn’t think you noticed that I was missing,” Sybil finally admitted, realising that saying the words out loud made her chest ache with pain, though it relieves her like a melting brain freeze at the same time. “Quite frankly, I was starting to think that you didn’t care.” 

Diego shook his head, sitting down on the bed beside her and causing a small depression in the mattress.

“I— I’ll admit, I didn’t know you were gone,” he said, his stutter jumping out in front of Sybil for the first time since they were children. “I figured you and Klaus had run off somewhere like you usually do.”

Sybil nodded, pressing her lips together. As much as she believed him, it wasn’t an acceptable excuse. "But either of us could’ve died, Diego.”

“And Eudora _did_ ,” he swallowed, staring up at the wall as the depressive stage of his grief slowly began to sink in. “Eudora died because I wasn’t there. I only have myself to blame for that.”

Sybil instinctively reached to rub his shoulder, though hesitated upon noticing his wounded arm. Sighing, she gestured to it as a way to ask for permission to remove the sling. He stared at her as she rubbed her hands together and applied pressure to his wound, receiving a wince in response only for it to be followed with a sigh of relief. When she removed her hands, he could bend and move his arm with ease.

“Thank you,” he said, gratefully. There was a small pause before he spoke again. “I still think about it sometimes, you know.”

Without him saying what he was talking about, this time Sybil just _knew_. He was referencing their kiss and Oh God did she think about it too — at the time, she was vulnerable and hurting and sometimes wondered if that’s why she’d wanted to kiss him so badly. But after months, even _years_ of pining over it, she knew it just wasn’t a heat of the moment thing.

“Well, if it counts for anything, I _really_ hope I’m not the only one who survives the apocalypse,” she admitted, a laugh-sob passing her lips as if it were as instinctive or automatic as a cough. She squeezed his hand in hers. 

“Yeah, me too,” he admitted wistfully, smiling as their eyes locked for a heart-thumping moment. Sybil leaned towards him to kiss him on the cheek as if offering a new kind of support she’d never given him before, but the events of that day blipped into nothingness as if they had never happened. 

Klaus leaned towards Luther, his arm resting on the bar. “We all died fighting this thing the first time around,” he interjected, “Remember?”

Diego nodded, occupying himself with his knives behind the bar, his injured arm captured in a sling. “Klaus, shockingly, has a point. What gives us a win this time?”

Suddenly, a large whirlpool of blue light zipped above them, and Five collapsed on top of a thick suitcase similar to the one Klaus stole from Hazel on the bar. Everybody jumped back in surprise, not having expected his sudden entrance. 

Klaus scrambled on the sofa. “You guys, am I _still_ high, or do you see him, too?”

Luther recovered himself, grabbing Five as he rolled off of the bar. “Five — where have you been?” He helped brush the dust off his blazer as he inspected the mess of his brother. “Who did this?” 

Five stole the coffee cup from Allison’s hands and dismissed their questions. “Irrelevant,” he murmured, draining the cup in a mere few seconds as he limped a few feet away before turning to face them all. “So the apocalypse is in three days. The only chance we have to save our world is, well, us.”

“Which you weren’t going to tell me I survived,” Sybil cut in, frowning at Five. “And we’re supposed to just blindly win this thing after everybody else died last time?”

Five rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but with me, obviously. So if y’all don’t get your sideshow acts together and get over yourselves, we’re screwed. Who cares if Dad messed us up? Are we gonna let that define us? No. And to give us a fighting chance to see next week, I’ve come back with a lead. I know who’s responsible for the apocalypse.” 

Allison snatched the evidence hungrily from Five’s hands, peeling it open in front of her siblings. “Harold Jenkins?” She said incredulously. Sybil noted that she didn’t recognise that name, and by the look on her siblings' faces, none of them did, either. How could someone with no significance to them over the past week cause the apocalypse?

“Who the Hell is Harold Jenkins?” Diego exclaimed.

And that's what they would have to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehehe im evil i know

**Author's Note:**

> hey!! i'm once again addicted to the umbrella academy after binging and finishing season two. i know a lot of fic readers prefer /reader or x reader fics but i really really love my new OC Sybil and i hope you guys start to love her too!
> 
> -kat


End file.
